


When the Crypt Door Creaks

by honeypothux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepy, Cute, Disney Employees, Disney World & Disneyland, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Haunted Mansion AU, Huxloween, M/M, Meet-Weird, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypothux/pseuds/honeypothux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part of a weekend trip to Disneyland is supposed to be ticket prices and long lines. For Kylo Ren, these become secondary concerns after a ride through the Haunted Mansion turns into a supernatural fight for his life. His only hope for survival comes in his ginger tour guide who, as the Force would have it, happens to be pretty cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Carriage Approaches

Standing knee-deep in sugar-coated kids and overstressed parents, they looked like the embodiment of every “Millennial” the Coruscant Post had ever complained about. All seven wore black despite the sweltering summer heat wave. They hung over one another in a gaggle — a _squad_. Under any other circumstances, they would have lounged around coolly, bored expressions concealed by their sunglasses. But this was Disneyland, god damn it. There was no escaping a smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before,” one of them said, light blue fringe hanging over his forehead. He leaned back against the railing that separated the walkway from the water around Tom Sawyer’s Island, smiling against the blaring sunlight. The others around him joined in, staring out over the fake river and waiting for the row boats to come floating by. “I mean, for kriff’s sake, Kylo, weren’t you loaded as a kid?”

Kylo, too tall and thick for his own good, shrugged his shoulders. “Being loaded doesn’t mean you go to amusement parks,” he said, tugging at the drawstrings of his hooded varsity jacket. The wind that came off the water was cold and refreshing. He leaned into despite how it tangled his hair, stray locks whipping against his cheeks. “It isn’t like I didn’t want to come. Every kid wants to go to Disneyland,” He continued, fidgeting and forcing his eyes to the green water. “It’s just that—”

The blue-haired man put his hand up, silencing Kylo. “We don’t have to do that here,” he said, flashing white teeth. He set his hand on Kylo’s shoulder and gestured to the rest of New Orleans Square, fingertips tracing the the edges of ornamented balconies. “This is supposed to be the Happiest Place on Earth, T-M. We don’t need to focus on why you haven’t been before. All we have to do is have fun, appreciate our time away from our shit professors, and pay for overpriced parking.”

“And,” another member interjected, inserting herself between the two boys, “keep Kalsharok from eating his weight in ice cream.” She laughed at her own joke and Kalsharok flushed, the pink of his cheeks contrasting with his blue hair. She shook him by the shoulder and winked, drawing a grumble from his lips. Kylo watched them in silence, smiling. His housemates were ridiculous, if comforting. There was nothing quite as soothing as watching them bicker

“Yes, well, thank you, Tenia. We all very much needed that input,” Kalsharok mumbled, pouting as Tenia inflated with pride. He huffed and snapped his attention across the water, eyes falling on the dark spot at the far edge of the Square. The line was already long, vanishing through a wrought iron gate and into a nest of ivy. His eyes brightened and he lifted onto his tip toes, pointing and bouncing in the same motion. “Guys,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear, “let’s go on The Haunted Mansion next!”  
  
Kylo turned his head to the side, following Kalsharok’s finger. “The Haunted Mansion?” he repeated, pulling the map from his pocket and smoothing it out against his thigh. He squinted down at the fine text, staring at the little cartoon drawing of white mansion. “Is it a horror ride? I didn’t think Disneyland would have something like that,” he said, voice trailing off. “Is it scary?”

Tenia shook her head and smoothed back her hair, drawing it up into a ponytail. “Not really. There aren’t jump scares or anything,” she said, setting her hands on her hips. “It's just a ton of creepy animatronics and, given that we already sat through that on Pirates for this loser,” she said, pointing at Kalsharok, “I think we should go on Splash Mountain instead.”

Kalsharok gasped in faux horror, bringing a hand to his heart. Kylo looked back down at the map, looking over the little artwork for Splash Mountain. Something about the idea of getting soaked so early on in their trip seemed unappealing. Maybe it was just him, but wet pants tended to chafe pretty easily. “I don’t know,” he said, crumpling the map back in his pocket, “I kind of liked the animatronics. They had character. I wasn’t disappointed.”

The rest of the group headed off down the walkway before the debate could continue. They moved toward the dark corner of the Square, drawing a smile on Kalsharok’s face. He started walking away and glanced back over his shoulder, staring at Tenia. “Well,” he said, throwing one hand up in the air, “it looks like this idiot gets what he wants, after all.”

Tenia grumbled and turned to Kylo, brows furrowed. “Do you have to spoil him like that?”

Kylo laughed. “No, but it is pretty funny.”

 

The Haunted Mansion was crowded, but not unbearable. The line itself was amusing enough, nestled between ivy-covered brick and playful tombstones. Kylo took his time reading each one, smiling to himself at “In memorium, Uncle Myall, here you’ll lie for quite a while.” Behind him, his friends traded in coursework complaints, each claiming the greatest grievance. Kylo listened to them only tangentially, using his time to admire the ride’s appearance. It was lovely, surrounded by bright yellow flowers and held up by great white pillars. Metal frames, greened by time, lined the wrap-around balcony and patio, adding a sense of age and sophistication. It looked nothing like what Kylo expected of a “haunted mansion”. The shock white color was pristine, roof orderly and free of holes. It was a touch off-putting in that it resembled the plantations of a troubled past but, for the most part, it seemed entirely welcoming. Perhaps that was the point, he thought. Maybe, like so many things, it was pleasing to see and dangerous to enter, the pitcher trap plant of buildings.

As Kylo gazed upon the red brick of the chimneys, something crashed into his ribs. He jumped, snapping his head down to find Kalsharok’s elbow pressed against him. “Hey,” Kalsharok said, voice dipping to a whisper. He jerked his head to the entrance of the house, smirk on his lips. “That tall glass of water over there looks like just your type.”

Kylo squinted, wrinkling his nose. He opened his mouth to ask Kalsharok what he meant when the answer became clear. Standing in the shade of the patio stood a tall, lean man with red hair and stick-straight posture. He was wearing a Hooker’s green suit, purple vest and white shirt showing through the unbuttoned portion. His bow tie was comically large, though Kylo couldn’t make out the details from so far away. He could, however, make out that the man was just his type, matching more than a few fantasy boyfriends he’d created as a lonely ninth grader. Upon seeing him, Kylo swallowed and fell still, fighting the urge to jump several rows of the line. “So he is,” he muttered, tugging at his jacket’s drawstrings. “That’s...nice.”

His friends sighed as a symphony, sharing knowing glances. They crowded around him, waiting. One moment became two and the a whole minute had passed, the silent expectation crushing. Kylo shuddered and turned away from the stranger, putting his arms up in defense. “I can’t,” he said and they all groaned, falling away from him. Kylo frowned, feeling the weight of the peer pressure every 90s cartoon had warned him about. “I can’t,” he repeated, firmer. “He clearly works here. It’d be rude to hit on him on the job. He’s just trying to earn a paycheck. I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to deal with me.”

The group grumbled, unable to find a fair counterpoint. Tenia brought herself up onto the railing, swinging her legs as the line came to a halt. “Yeah, that’s fair. I can’t tell you how many guys I want to punch at the Big Five,” she said, pulling her bag into her lap. “You won’t believe how gross middle-aged men buying golf clubs are. It’s like, hello, I can help you with golf balls, not your balls.”

A mother with two sticky children in the next row over grumbled, glaring as the group broke out into raucous laughter. Kylo’s laugh was small and caught in his throat, a little snicker in the company of his friend’s cackles. He held out the longest, however, carrying on past all the others, undeterred by the way everyone suddenly stopped. He only became aware of the dead silence around him when someone ended it, clearing their throat to his right.

Kylo turned to look and tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He felt like a little boy caught with porn, muscles rigid and eyes blown wide. The man from beneath the patio stood not three feet away, his eyes — a lovely, pale green — narrowed in scrutiny. “Excuse me,” he said, words lifted by a delightful accent that made Kylo weak at the knees, “I would appreciate if you could slide off the railing, ma’am. The house mistress would be displeased if you were to fall and hurt yourself.”  He smiled, though it seemed uncomfortable and forced — creepy — on his face. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay here...indefinitely.”

Before Kylo could do or say anything, Kalsharok was at his side, beaming. “Oh, I don’t think she’s interested in that,” he purred. Kalsharok wrapped one arm around Kylo’s waist, too short to reach his shoulders, and tugged him closer. “But this guy,” he said, pointing upwards, “he might enjoy a longer stay.”

At this distance, there was so much more to love about the ride worker. His overly large tie wasn’t just gigantic — it was a bat. The ends were cut into a zig-zag, the knot boasting little ears and angry, white eyes. He had long sideburns, fitting the ride’s period well enough to make Kylo wonder if they were pasted on or if he was just that dedicated. Either way, he was darling and standing in his presence made Kylo want to shrink away into nothing. He considered strangling Kalsharok, but found himself unable to move once Hux’s eyes fell upon his face.

Hux stared in unflinching silence, making Kylo tremble, and then nodded his head. “Of course, sir. I’ll inquire with my lady about accommodations shortly,” he said, smoothing back his hair with a white gloved hand. As he turned to walk away, he added, “And do try to respect the estate during your stay. I would hate to see something unfortunate happen.”

“Of course!” Tenia called, hopping off the rails and back into her proper place in line. She waved as he walked away, calling, “Thanks so much, Elan!”

After the initial shock wore away, Kylo turned to Tenia with his brows raised. “Elan?” He asked, head turning to one side.

“All that staring and you didn’t even read his name tag,” one of the others chimed in, clicking her tongue. The group erupted in laughter again and Kylo’s face burned up to his ears. Fortunately, the subject passed after that, Kalsharok and Tenia starting another debate. It was all for the better, really. Their fighting gave him more time to stare across the courtyard at the handsome man standing beside the front door.

 

It took another fifteen minutes for them to reach the front of the line. There, Kylo flashed Elan a smile and earned a glower in return. He told himself it was just part of Elan’s role, but his mood faltered anyway.

“This way, everyone. Watch you step,” Elan said, leaving his place at the door and waving a crowd of thirty inside. Kylo and his friends followed, shuffling through the foyer all and trying not to bump against the excited children running under their feet. The room was dimly lit, a chandelier with candles hanging overhead and providing only minimal light. However, even in the low light, all the little Victorian details — the moldings, the wallpaper — were apparent. Kylo couldn’t help but be impressed.

A voice came from above. “When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still,” it said,  speaking slowly and with dramatic growl. “That is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight!”  
  
Kalsharok snorted. “Pretty sure the only strange and frightening sounds we’re going to hear are Kylo whimpering over ginger boy here,” he whispered, earning a chuckle from everyone except Kylo, who only glared.

“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. At the same time, he caught Elan’s eyes from across the room and a chill run down his spine.

“Yeah,” Tenia agreed, walking into the next room with the others, “but what else are friends for?”

Kylo sighed and took his place in the crowd, staring around the new room. It was octagonal and tall, four portraits hanging from the walls. Kylo found himself staring at the one depicting a young Victorian lady with her parasol, demurely smiling out at the viewer. It was pleasant enough. However, the second he thought as much, the lights dimmed and the phantom voice returned, louder than it had been before.  
  
“Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion! I am your host, your ghost host,” it said, drawing a few laughs from the youngest members of the crown. “Kindly step all the way in please and make room for everyone. There's no turning back now.”

At that, the doors behind them closed. Kylo felt his heart jump into his throat as a distinct sense of claustrophobia set in. The room was tightly packed and he could feel strangers pump up against him, eager to see the show. Worse yet, Elan seemed to be watching him from across the room, his face dark in the poor lighting. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he clenched his fists, looking back to the portraits.

“Our tour begins here in this gallery where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state,” the ghost host continued. As he spoke, the room seemed to change. The walls grew taller, the ceiling inching further and further away as disquieting music played. With every passing moment, the portraits grew longer as well, revealing more and more of their respective images. The host carried on with, “Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination, hmm?”

It was most certainly not his imagination. The portraits, and the room, had taken a turn toward the uncanny and unsettling. The young woman he’d admired earlier now stood in a rather precarious position, balancing over the open jaws of an alligator on a tiny thread. The other portraits revealed similar images -  a man atop lit dynamite, three men sinking in quicksand, a woman sitting atop the tomb of her murdered husband. The art was stunning, the trick amusing. Kylo smiled, though he could not shake the tension lurking in the back of his mind.

“And consider this dismaying observation,” the host added, voice dipping lower. “This chamber has no windows and no doors, which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!” It cackled, laughter echoing off the walls.

Tenia leaned in close, whispering in Kylo’s ear. “Do you really want a way out when Mr. Handsome’s here?” she said, tapping his chest with her fingers.

Kylo opened his mouth to argue when the host spoke again, saying, “Of course, there's always my way.”

The lights in the room snapped off before the dark ceiling above was illuminated by light and filled with the sounds of thunder. A skeleton hung from the rafters, rattling as the “lighting” came and went. Kylo jumped as some of the young children screamed, playful parents joining in on the faux terror. Tenia practically blew his ear drum out with her unnecessary shout and he glared at her, frowning. She replied with a smile and the crowd started shoving them out of the room, moving their group toward the new door Elan had opened.

“Watch your step, sir,” Elan said as Kylo passed over the threshold, leaving the octagonal room for a long, dark, cobweb filled hallway. The ghost host spoke rattled off more recorded dialogue, but Kylo missed it as he stared back at Elan, cursing himself for his ridiculous attraction.

His friends took some time to marvel at the illusions in the long hall, moving their head from side to side in order to watch paintings shift between regular and bizarre. Meanwhile, Kylo watched Elan stalk the hall and keep guests from poking at the busts. Overhead, the ghost host rattled on about the number of ghosts in the mansion, citing the desire for a “1,000th happy haunt” to grace the building. “Any volunteers?” it asked, voice sinking down to add, “If you insist on lagging behind, you may not need to volunteer.”

A little boy hugged his father’s leg and said he wanted to leave and Kylo, still staring at Elan and his adorable coat tails, thought, “How long can I stay?”  
  
As they reached the end of the hall of shifting portraits, they entered a chamber full of smoke, the ground obscured and the ceiling unseen in the darkness. Black ride cars filtered in from the right and whisked members of the crown down yet another corridor. Kylo watched for a moment, an issue becoming strikingly apparent. The host said aloud what he’d already realized: “ The carriage that will carry you into the moldering sanctum of the spirit world will accommodate you and one or two loved ones.”  
  
“There are seven of us. That doesn’t work out,” He said, drawing the attention of his friends. They stared at him for a moment before realizing what he meant. “Who is going to be the one to ride alone?” He asked and, with that, the decision was made already.

“Well,” Kalsharok said, already grabbing two of their friends and easing them toward the “carriages”, “it seems to me that you really ought to try and get the whole spooky experience your first time here, right?”

“Yeah,” Tenia added, nabbing the other two with a laugh. “You wouldn’t want us to ruin the ride by laughing too much anyway.”

Kylo sighed, crossing his arms as all his friends boarded the carriages, their laughter audible even as they vanished into the dark. He approached a doom buggy by himself and slipped inside, waiting for the bar to pull down on its own as the host explained it would. As he sat, Elan pulled up at the side of the ride. “It seems you’re taking this journey all on your own,” Elan said, devilish smile spreading across his lips. He leaned forward, speaking over the host’s lines to say, “No worries. I’m sure the spirits will keep you good company.”  
  
The bar snapped downward and Kylo flinched, unable to process anything outside the curve of Elan’s lips. “Have a nice ride, sir,” Elan whispered. He sunk back into the darkness of the room, gone before Kylo could get a word in. The carriage tipped back and sprung to life, moving down the tracks and into the hall beyond. As the ghost host rattled on about all the scares, Kylo grabbed the safety bar, staring back at Elan as he was carried off into the dark.

 

The ride itself was charming. Howls and moans, backed the slow march of an organ, accompanied him down through the pitch black corridor. Doorways and picture frames rattled along the walls, shivering in the darkness. The faces in passing portraits were gaunt and dead. Their eyes tracked him across the wall.

Kylo leaned back in his seat, releasing the bar. Playful screams cut through the air, the voices of his friends recognizable in the mess. He smiled, allowing himself to relax. The hot boy was gone now and forever more. The only thing he had left to do now was appreciate old school practical effects.

As he passed a rattling coffin, one of hall doors flung open. His carriage turned, slipping away from the others. Kylo craned his neck back and furrowed his brows; he hadn’t been aware this ride had branching pathways. Given its age, that was a rather stunning feature. When the door swung shut, leaving him in another dark hallway, he settled back in his seat. The pictures here were still and depicted the living, cobwebs coating the wall between them. The air smelled different, like dust and age. He coughed and rubbed at his eyes, narrowing them as something strange came into view.

The man that stepped in front of his carriage was faint blue and transparent, the long hall visible through his skin. He extended a hand at the carriage stopped, safety bar flying off. Kylo stared down at his lap and then looked back to the apparition, searching for the source of the illusion. He couldn’t see any projector lights but, then again, he wasn’t exactly an effects expert.

The ghost came closer, leaning up against the ride car. He was young and attractive, smile alluring like cheese upon a trap.  His costume fit the period, frilly ascot complementing the dark mess of curls framing his face. Kylo stared at him, anticipatory. After a few empty moments, expectant glances shared between them, the ghost said, “So who talks first? You talk first, I talk first?”

Kylo blinked, amazed. The voice sounded so close, almost like it really was right in front of him. Looking forward, he saw there was no more track in front of him. Strange; he didn’t think there’d be another walking portion so soon. Nevertheless, he stepped off the ride, jumping as the carriage zipped backward the moment his feet his the ground. It barreled back out the door, gone before he could even think to question it. At his side, the ghost clicked its tongue.

“So, do you have a name or?” he asked, dropping his head to one side. So close, Kylo couldn’t help but be astonished by all the little details. Even his individuals eyelashes were visible, just barely darker than his skin.

Kylo shifted in place, shoving his hands in his pockets. The building was unreasonably cold in that spot and he shivered, goosebumps prickling across his skin. “I’m Kylo,” he said, not entirely certain why he was talking to a ride. He supposed that was the magic of Disneyland: making him act like a kid and, by the same measure, an idiot.

The ghost opened its mouth to speak again before its smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. He furrowed his brow and turned into smoke, floating away as blue tendrils. Kylo watched as they passed up through the ceiling and then turned to investigate what the ghost had seen. What he found was Elan, standing beside the door. His hair was rustled, a few strands pressed from their perfect place and onto his forehead. He seemed flush, cheeks rosy in the same way Kylo’s had been not so long ago.

“I see you’re ready to start your formal walking tour. It will be my pleasure to guide you through my mistress's home,” Elan said, placing one hand over his chest and bowing his the waist. He regained his composure with record speed, smoothing his hair down and offering a couth smile. The very air around him seemed to resonate with calmness, though his eyes lacked feeling, dead as Walt Disney himself. As they walked down the hall together, Kylo had to wonder if all the Mansion employees had the “creepy butler” image down so well or if Elan and his ridiculous sideburns were just special.

They moved into a foyer with a high ceiling and twin staircases, several dust-covered chandeliers hanging down from above. There, crystals reflected the dim light of flickering candles, casting bright spots along the walls and warped wood floors. A double-door with decorative glass panes showed a glance into the “outside world”, dark grey clouds crowding the night “sky.” Elan checked the door, pulling it open. Cold wind wafted inside, tickling Kylo’s skin. It was a cool effect. He couldn’t even hear a fan.

Elan shut the door and turned around, taking his place in the center of the room. “The building was designed by Marc Davis and constructed in 1844 to the specifications of a wealthy judge by the name of Claude Coats. As you can see, it is exemplary for its period of construction, reflecting that true Antebellum style,” he said, gesturing toward the staircases and the dark red carpet that climbed their steps. “The mansion was purchased in 1873 by George Hightower. Unfortunately, he passed on shortly after his wedding in 1877. He left the home in the possession of his young widow and my mistress, Constance Hatchaway.”

“1877 was a long time ago,” Kylo said, joining Elan in the center of the room. His hands fidgeted at his sides and he kept a few feet away from Elan, uncertain how close was too close. He figured it was best to keep his distance, if only to make up for his cloying desire to stand as close as possible. “Mrs. Hatchaway would need to be dead by now, wouldn’t she? I don’t know of many people over a hundred.”

Elan turned, head held high and body board stiff. His eyes were like bullets, tearing through Kylo’s skin wherever they fell. “Yes, well, the dead do not always leave us the way we’d like to imagine,” he said, voice cold enough to freeze harvests. “She is my mistress, all the same. It would do you well to respect her and her home during your visit. Not many are given the opportunity to see it this way. You ought to appreciate it.”

Kylo raised his brows and then looked around, struck by something rather obvious. They were alone. More than that, they were alone in a massive room of a popular Disneyland ride. Sure, the line outside the ride wasn’t overflowing, but it had included several hundred people. The earlier walking portion had been crowded, children screaming as adults bumped shoulders. There was no way this apart of the normal ride. It simply didn’t make logistical sense.

“Uh,” he said, yanking on his jacket’s drawstring, “so is this part of some kind of random selection thing or...what is the deal, exactly?” Kylo couldn’t imagine they’d construct such an elaborate additional room for nothing. Perhaps this was some kind of special feature, a draw to the ride. He imagined that, if everyone had a small chance of being chosen for a private tour, diehard fanatics would make plenty of return trips. It seemed like a sound enough business model.

“The house chooses who it chooses,” Elan said, already staring down the hall that dipped between the two staircases. As if to complete his look, he lifted a candelabra from its place on a pedestal, bringing the flames close to his face. He reached out with one hand and beckoned, taking one backwards step into the hall. “Now, come. Those who fall behind do not always find the heart to leave, later.”

Elan’s smile shook him to his core. Following after him in a stupefied daze, Kylo wasn’t sure he had the heart to leave then, either.

As they made their way, the sound of music filled the hall. It grew louder and louder with every passing step. It was dissonant and ugly, the tune of an organ but shrill and broken. Laughter and chatter filled the air to accompany it. Kylo turned toward Elan in response. “What is going on?” he asked, playing along with the little “tour.” He couldn't even imagine how jealous his friends would be, later. It served them right for leaving him all alone.

The hall spilled out into a grand ballroom. Dozens upon dozens of ghosts spun across the floor, dancing and singing even as they floated above the ground. They came in brilliant colors, blue-skin accented with shocking hair and clothing. They were  a vibrant display of oranges, purples, and greens, jumping on tables and swinging from the chandelier. Kylo reached out to make sure he wasn’t seeing a screen and, when he felt nothing but air, felt all of his own air leave his lungs.

“They’re celebrating a wake,” Elan said, nonchalant. As he walked into the room, weaving between specters, a number of ghosts called his way. Kylo narrowed his eyes at the loudest among them, a set of twelve or so in what seemed to be Confederate uniforms. He knew Disney had a hall of history and an animatronic Lincoln show somewhere in the park, but the Confederates seemed like a little much. He turned to ask Elan about them, only to be greeted by the smiley, dark haired ghost from earlier.

“Well, look who is still here!” he chimed, throwing up his arms. “I don’t think I properly introduced myself before. I’m Poe Dameron, though you might know me as the best damn jockey this side of Philadelphia.” He flashed another toothy grin, glowing. Again, Kylo found himself searching for projectors.

Before Poe could float much closer, Elan stepped between them. “Mr. Dameron,” he said, scowling, “our guest is in much too great of a hurry to talk about gambling and races with you. Please, return to the party. The mistress would not be happy to know he was delayed.”

Poe frowned and furrowed his brows, setting his hands on his hips. “You know,” he said, waving a finger in Elan’s face, “you aren’t very much fun these days. You’re going to stop him from dancing? Why, there isn’t any reason to even visit our house if you don’t at least stop for a song.”

The pair continued to glare at one another, stuck in a stand-off Kylo could only assume he was meant to break. “I wouldn’t mind a dance,” he said, taking hold of one inkling of bravery. Elan turned to him, face blank and unforgiving, and Kylo forced a grin. “It seems like a lively party,” he continued, barely keeping himself from laughing at his own joke. Elan’s lips twitched up before snapping back to a frown, a sigh escaping from between them.  
  
“I am afraid these parties are only for the dead, my friend,” he said, stepping past Poe and weaving through the swarm of other spirits. He made it across the room before Kylo could even start, lingering at the edge of the light with his candles gripped tight.  “Come along, then!” he called, hand outreached. “Walk much slower and perhaps you’ll get to stay and dance, after all.”  
  
Kylo dismissed Poe, leaving him behind without even saying goodbye. His cheeks burned, eyes downcast as he walked across the room. It had been stupid of him to assume they could stop in the middle of ride to dance together. It had been even stupider to assume Elan might want to. He did best to avoid the ghosts but, on occasion, he brushed against one, body passing through them. He could have sworn he felt some tension every time, but that was nonsense. Despite the jovial tone and hot guide, the ride was just creepy enough to start making him paranoid.

They plunged into another dark hall, lead only by the warm glow of Elan’s candles. Kylo’s hair flew over his face, unsettled by the draft that seemed to draw them deeper and deeper into the house. The wood underfoot creaked, cacophonous joy of the party giving way to the sound of their breathing and the house’s old moans.

Kylo jolted as his foot connected with something hard. He looked up, watching as Elan ascended stairs he hadn’t even seen coming. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Elan called, red light and red hair climbing ever higher in the black. Kylo waited for another crack about his imminent death and, when it didn’t come, he frowned. Taking hold of the railing, he guided himself up the steps, inhaling every time one bent under his weight. As he grew closer and closer to the top, new music filled his ears. The wedding march, played too slow and across an organ’s keys, rattled through the air, sinking as deep down as his bones.

At the top of the stairs, Elan waited beside a door. Hi face was grave and he leaned forward, the head of the candles warming Kylo’s chest. “My lady is waiting to meet you inside. Please, be mindful,” he said, voice just above a whisper.  For a moment, Kylo thought he almost saw fear flash across his face. The look was gone before he could question it, the door creaking open without either of their assistance. Kylo inhaled and pressed on, stepping through the spiderwebs and toward the mounting music.

Dust floated through the air. The room was a mess of trunks and old furniture, everything grey with dirt and age. An organ satin the corner, playing on its own. Kylo felt the room temperature dip ten degrees and he brought his hands to his mouth, blowing warmth across his fingers. His breath froze before him, drifting away in white smudges. He swallowed, tongue heavy in his mouth. It was only a ride, he told himself. It was only a ride even if, the moment Hux stepped inside, the door swung shut and his candles blew out.  
  
They were drowned in pitch black. Blood rushed in his ears and the hairs of his neck stood on end. He turned round to find Elan in the darkness, groping the air. He could hear his heart beat, some old animal part of him screaming, “Run,” in his mind.

One by one, the candles in the room lit with a pale blue light. They illuminated the faces of old photographs. The same woman stood in all of them, empty eyes boring out and into his soul. She was accompanied by a different man in every image, their faces bright and cheery beside her own, blank stare. He felt his heart sink into his stomach as he took note of her changing wedding gown. Husband passing shortly after the wedding, indeed.

He felt a hot breath against the back of his neck and turned, fists clenching. Across the room, sitting at the organ, was a woman. She played without regard for him, glowing blue, her wedding gown draped over the sides of the bench. “Here comes the bride,” she sang, fingers dancing across the keys. Her laugh was light and airy, but it gripped him like claws and wrenched a shiver from his body. “I do,” she continued, words honeyed and sweet. Then, quieter, like a silent vow to herself, “I did.”

Kylo took a step back, knocking against one of the trunks. One of the picture frames fell to the floor, smashing. He cursed under his breath and she stopped playing, sitting straight up. Though she did not turn toward him, he felt her eyes on his skin, sharp and frigid. “My, my,” she said, raising one hand in the air. From the piles of junk, an ax floated into the air, held in place by shining blue light. “It is very rude to sneak in a lady without announcing yourself. Perhaps you ought to” — her body flickered, vanishing and appearing only inches from his face — “apologize!”

The ax came barreling through the air and Kylo closed his eyes. He expected to feel something smash into his face and, instead, arms wrapped around his torso and yanked him away. “Run!” Elan shouted and he complied, bolting off in whatever direction Elan dragged him. The bride was cackling and her organ screamed, but Kylo heard nothing past his own labored breathing as they made it over toward the door. Elan grabbed the handle and pulled, shouting, “Kriff!” when it wouldn’t open. He snapped his attention to Kylo and said, “Help me!” before slamming his body against the old wood. Kylo, looking back to see the bride pulling her ax from the trunk it had lodged in, took no time.

They beat themselves against the door until it broke, stumbling out of the room and down the stairs. Kylo barely caught himself on the railing, almost falling forward and smashing his face against floor. Then, shaking and barely stable, he took off with Hux back down the long, dark hallway, bursting out into a now empty ballroom. Without the ghosts, it seemed vacuous and dead, serving as nothing more than an echo chamber for his labored breathing.  
  
After a minute of panting, Kylo looked up, staring at Elan with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?” he shouted, drawing toward him with his hands extended for explanation. “You tell me what is going on here. That didn’t seem safe. That didn’t seem like it was supposed to happen. None of things seems like—”

“Like a ride,” Elan finished for him. He leaned back against one of the man tables, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and staring back at the hallway they’d just escaped. His frown carried a different air to it, shifting from creepy to mournful, from practice to genuine. He smoothed his hair back again and sighed, nodding his head.  “Well, you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking that,” he said, quiet.

Kylo stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. His pulse, barely calming from their run, seemed to shake his entire body. “What do you mean?” he said, already certain he knew exactly what Elan meant. As his host shifted in place, clasping his hands, Kylo felt himself begin to panic.

“Exactly that,” Elan said, looking him in the eye. “This isn’t a ride anymore.”


	2. Let There be Music, From Regions Beyond!

“Alright, I want to go through this again,” Kylo said, bringing his hands out in front of his chest. Elan stood across from him, brows raised. This was the fourteenth in a series of restatements, the conversational equivalent to Bill Murray’s Groundhog Day. Kylo paced the room, sneakers squeaking against the warped hardwood loud enough to make Elan consider tearing his shoes clean off.

Kylo wanted to understand. He wasn’t trying to be difficult or dismissive. But, even with Elan’s pleasant voice and clear diction, every word seemed to jumble and knot up in his head. He turned on his heel, shoes squeaking again, and clapped his hands together. “You’re trying to tell me that a ride at Disneyland is filled with a ton of ghosts. Real ghosts.”

Elan sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest , kicking back on his heels. “As I already said, I’m not sure this is the ride itself. I think it is some kind of alternate plane or a real location elsewhere that the Disneyland ride is linked up to in some sort of spatial rift,” he said, staring at Kylo like his answer made any sense. Kylo, dropping his hands and groaned at the ceiling, couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and stooping his hands in front of his lips, “but the ghosts are ghosts, right? They are real dead people? This is what the afterlife looks like?”

“You’re asking a man who gets paid to clean up vomit a lot of big questions,” Elan muttered, earning a grumble and arm flail from Kylo. He sighed and swayed his head from side to side, weighing his answers. “I don’t really know. They could be real dead people,” he said, raising one hand, “but then there are the ones mentioned on the ride. Their names are puns. They can’t be real, right?”

Elan sounded unsure of himself and Kylo ran his hands down his face, dragging his skin along with the motion. “Not unless Walt Disney really was an occult wizard like the theorists say,” he mumbled, hunching over and deflating. “This is nonsense. It can’t be real. Who put you up this?” His eyes narrowed, fists tightening. “It was Kalsharok, wasn’t it?”

“This is real. This isn’t a Disney ride anymore. A ghost just tried to murder you,” Elan said, narrowing his eyes. The shock and awe was reasonable, but denying the very obvious was just stupid. “I don’t even know who Kalsharok is.”

Kylo bowed his head. Of course his friends were innocent the one time he needed them to be manic jerks. His jaw felt too tight, aching under his skin. “I don’t believe you,” he said, leaning back against the dusty ballroom table. Porcelain and metal clattered together at the impact, loud enough to make his eyes shoot open. For not believing, he was certainly on edge.

There were countless ways in which to approach the situation, but Elan narrowed in on the absurd. In a house full of ghosts, he had few other options. “Alright, here, let me prove it to you,” he said. Elan closed his eyes, inhaled, and proceeded with: “Shit, piss, fuck, terrorism is great, genocide is an acceptable form of governmental action, Mon Mothma did 9—”

“Did you just say genocide is an acceptable government action?” Kylo wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t even going to touch the conspiracy theory.They didn’t have the time to talk about steal beams, not with ghosts around.

“I was only trying to show you that we aren’t on a ride,” Elan replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Disney would never tolerate that sort of language, yes? I’d lose my job.” Kylo stared at him with dish-wide eyes and Elan struggled against a smile. It was inappropriate to grin in the face of danger, but Kylo’s shock white face tempted him.

A sigh escaped Kylo’s lips and his shoulders fell. He already knew the truth. The ride was over, this was real, and he wanted out immediately. “Fine. We’re not on a ride anymore,” he said, running his hands back through his hair. Kylo walked around Elan in a circle, picking at the little details of his uniform. He stopped once he’d made a full rotation, staring right into Elan’s eyes. “But we can leave, right? You know the way out of here.”

The silence that followed filled Kylo up with a great, vacuous emptiness. His fingers shook at his sides and he inclined his head, trying to fill his lungs and failing. Elan’s face did not change, stuck at a blank expression that could only speak to bad news. “I’ve come to this place many times before and left,” Elan said, slow and deliberate. “But the way out is never the same. Sometimes you simply need to follow the ride and meet Constance, other times the house has more specific demands.”

“And what does it demand of me?” Kylo asked.

Elan looked down, voice going with his gaze. “I can’t be sure what it wants from anyone.”

Kylo felt the blood in his arteries seize up, frozen solid. “So the ride—the house— whisks people away to play out wild scenarios or...or what?” he said, pressing forward into Elan’s personal space. Even with their proximity, Elan maintained his cool expression, staring down Kylo’s panic without flinching.

“I don’t know everything about this place,” Elan said. He reached up and took hold of Kylo’s shoulder, squeezing. “Just do your best to relax and trust me. Worrying won’t do you any good.”

Kylo looked to the hand on his shoulder, expression hardening. Elan wanted his trust only moments after leading him toward a death trap on the off chance some metaphysical ghost house would decide to play nice. He wanted his trust seconds after admitting he didn’t know everything, after saying that they were stuck in a place of uncertainty. Kylo furrowed his brows “And what do you even do?” he said, jabbing a finger against Elan’s chest. “Do you rescue people?”

Elan moved Kylo’s hand away from his chest, glaring up at it’s owner. He replied without a twinge of tone, face stern and harsh as the busts lining the mansion’s walls. “I try.”

He pushed past Kylo, lifting the candelabra from the place on the table where he’d set it. Kylo stood on the spot, eyes fixed forward as nausea seeped into his stomach. Shame coiled around his shoulders and neck, crowding out his air. There he was, stranded, and he’d snapped at the one thing that might help him. He swallowed and turned, calling after Elan. “Wait,” he said, reaching out with one hand. Elan paused and looked back, watching from across the room. Kylo tensed under his eyes. “Have you failed before?” he asked, voice shaking like a vagrant left out in the cold.

Kylo never thought about dying. He was young, invincible. Trapped in a ghost mansion with an intangible murderess, he felt the concern bubble in his mind for the first time. He could die here. Worse yet, no one would ever know what happened to him. His face would don Missing Persons posters and then slip away, forgotten by all except those who’d brought him to Disneyland in the first place.

Elan moved instead of replying, walking toward another dark hallway. The silence made Kylo want to sob but, kept upright by twisting horror working its way through his body, he abstained, following after Elan for the umpteenth time. As they waded into the darkness, he fixed his attention to the warm glow of the candles and the way they illuminated Elan’s hair like amber stone. At the very least, if he died here, he’d die in the company of something beautiful.

They reached another old wooden door and Elan pressed it open, waving his hand through the dust that kicked up. Inside was a study, books lining every wall except the one along the outside. There, tall windows gave a view out over the tangled garden and yard, the far edges traced by a thicket of woodlands and fog that went on forever. Kylo stepped inside and shut the door, watching as Elan peeled off his jacket. With just a shirt and vest, it was easy to see the narrowness of his shoulders and hips, body slight like the skeletons that rattled back on the ride. Kylo wondered how many times Elan had been caught on The Haunted Mansion. Was there even any food to eat? He shuddered  
.  
Elan laid his jacket over the desk that sat in front of the window. He reached up and took hold of his own wrist, stretching out his back until Kylo heard something crack. Kylo looked up at him and then pursed his lips. He walked over toward the couch on the far end of the room and laid himself down, head resting on wood-rimmed armrest. It was lovely but uncomfortable and he groaned, damning Victorian sensibilities. He set his hand between his skull and the wood, trying to get comfortable while Elan sifted through desk drawers.

The flutter of pages filled the space between them for a long while. Kylo stared up at ceiling, tracing grey water damage stains with the tips of his fingers. He felt his chest tighten, a swell of emotions pressing at the back of his throat. He clamped his eyes shut to fight back the swell of tears that threatened to overtake him, pressing the butt of his palms against his eyes.

The flutter of pages topped and his heart jumped out of his chest. He wiped at his eyelashes and sat up, inhaling sharp enough to clear his nose. The couch creaked before he could open his eyes and the hand on his shoulder was back, Elan’s thumb stroking over the curve of his collar bone. The fabric of Elan’s glove was silky soft and Kylo looked down to watch his hand, dumbfounded. “I’m alright,” he whispered. “I don’t need...I was being stupid out there. I’ll be okay.”

Elan did him the courtesy of staring at his neck instead of his face, giving Kylo the room to flush red and chew his bottom lip. “You don’t need to lie to me,” he said, the cold front of his expression giving way to something else. He wasn’t smiling, but his lips lost their tenseness, relaxed as he spoke. “I know you’re scared and you should be. This is...well, it scares me, too. I’ve made it out of here dozens of times, but every time I think that maybe I won’t, that my luck will finally run out. You think about your family, your friends, the fact that you might not see them again and it’s”—he paused, searching for the word and bringing his free hand to his chest, brows knitting together—“overwhelming.”

Kylo thought he saw pain in Elan’s face, but it was gone before he could saw anything about it. A trick of the light, he decided. It was better not to pry.

“I’d be more worried if you weren’t upset,” Elan continued, pulling his hand back to himself. “I fully expect you to cry and snap and panic. Hells, I even forgave the middle aged man who punched me after I told him what was going on.” He smiled, coughing out one half of a laugh. “This isn’t the everyday. We might be strangers, but we’re comrades against the bizarre, now. We’ll have to be understanding.”

The “if we want to survive” went unspoken but well understood.

Kylo forced a smile, though it came easier with Elan smirking across from him. “Did that middle aged man get out alive?”

Elan’s grin grew. “Oh, sure. He was pretty lucky on that front,” he said, gesturing with his hands, “but I’m pretty sure his wife killed him for ditching her at the park.”

Kylo laughed, doing his best to ignore the surge of adrenaline in his body. He’d never known an offhand comment could fill him with such fear. But, indeed, only the lucky ones made it out alright.

“How awful for him,” Kylo said,shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “Going through all this only for his wife to kill him.”

“Well,” Elan said, laying back against the couch and folding one leg over the other. Kylo followed the long lines of his thighs, struck by the length of his limbs. He swallowed and wrenched his eyes upward as Elan carried on with, “Escaping this murderous bride does not guarantee you’ll make it past your own.”

Kylo scoffed through his nose and nodded, leaning back against the seat to join Elan. He felt at the fraying, old fabric on the inside of his pockets and looked back to the water stains on the ceiling. Every inhale brought the scent of dust and mold to his nose and he closed his eyes, sinking into the rot of it all. “Hey,” he said, earning a hum in response. “Thanks, Elan.”

A few seconds passed and Kylo opened his eyes to find Elan staring at him, struggling to contain a laugh. He opened his mouth to ask what was so funny when Elan whispered, “Who the fuck is Elan?”

Kylo sat straight up, eyes groping for the name tag. When he found it, his desire to escape the mansion increased a hundredfold. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry , Ethan,” he said, fiddling his drawstrings. He pulled them hard enough to scrunch up and wrinkle his hood, the strings hanging far down his chest. He was going to throttle his posse. “My friend said it was Elan. I guess she can’t read. I should have asked.”

This, time Ethan lost his fight against laughter. He cackled and hid his face behind a hand, leaving Kylo to gape. “I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. “What did I say?”

Ethan put his hand over his mouth and turned pink up to his ears with the force of his laughter. Kylo followed the line of his flush and pursed his lips, certain his own face was heating up, too. “It isn’t Ethan either,” not-Elan said. He pointed to the pin on his coat. “This isn’t mine. Disney stopped shelling out for new uniforms.” He shook his head, smile warming Kylo’s heart. He had no right to seem so vibrant surrounded by cobwebs and spirits.

“Oh,” Kylo said, folding his hands in his lap. “So, ah, what is your name?”

Not-Elan smirked and stole one of Kylo’s hands for himself, shaking it. “My name is Armitage Hux. The pleasure is all mine, Kyle.”

Kylo ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth and swallowed, lips turning upward. “It’s Ky—”

“I know. I heard you with Mr. Dameron. I was just teasing,” Hux said, standing up from the couch and heading back toward the desk. He pulled open one drawer and sorted through it, stacking papers along the far end. “I would appreciate if you just called me Hux, though. I’ve never been fond of Armitage. It sounds too far out of this century.”

Kylo rose and headed toward the desk. “It fits the house just fine, then,” he said, coming around the other side. The letter on the table were written in swirling font, illegible to his untrained eye. He squinted and picked through a few. “What are you looking for?” he asked, turning his attention to the letter in Hux’s hand.

“Your story,” Hux said, turning the sheet over in his hands. “No one comes here without the house making an excuse for them. It has to create some logic, some narrative for the ghosts to follow. I’m trying to figure out who you are, here.”

Kylo looked down at his own street clothes. He struggled to see how, given his odd attire and raggedy hair, he’d get any explanation other than mad vagabond. “What about you?’ he asked, following Hux’s eyes to the bottom of the page where Constance Hatchaway was signed in sharp letters. He tore his eyes away from her name, staring at the back of Hux’s neck instead. “What’s your story ?”

Hux lowered the letter and stared at Kylo. He raised one brow and gestured toward his outfit. “Tell me what you think my role is.”

“The man who convinces me green, purple, and orange can look good outside of a Halloween party,” Kylo said without thinking. Hux’s face didn’t change, but something in the air shifted. Kylo cleared his throat and set about fixing his jacket. “You’re the butler. She is your mistress.”

Hux tucked the letters back into their place, closing the drawer. “Well, I’ve figured you out. You’re a flatterer,” he said, running a hand back through his hair. “Nothing goes with this mess.”

“That isn’t true,” Kylo mumbled. He didn’t dare press harder on the subject. As much as Hollywood liked to pretend romance sprung up from life or death situations, he knew better. They had work to do and, technically speaking, Hux was still on the job. Pursuing something when Hux couldn’t get away would be harassment, not to mention awkward. He had no interest in anything like that.

And then, as if to trample Kylo’s every thought, Hux looked up with big doe eyes and said, “There is nothing here. Want to come to bed?”

 

The sheets smelled like mothballs, ends tattered by age and insects. Staring at them, Kylo imagined a hundred thousand bed bugs crawling beneath, lurking in the down and waiting for a hapless victim to lay across their dinner plate. He felt their little limbs scratch across his skin, itch spreading over his back and shoulders. The pillows looked clean, but he’d thought the same thing of that Motel 6 he’d used over Spring Break. Nothing could make him forget the terrors that unfolded there, the red welts that haunted him for months as he bathed his house in toxic bug spray. Victorian ghosts had no need for Off! or Raid. If something evil was waiting for him, there would be no escape.

Hux stole his attention by wrenching the comforter from the bed and tossing it to the ground. He gathered one of the countless, embroidered pillows and set it down on the comforter, creating a makeshift bed. Kylo quirked a brow. The bed was huge, a piece of indulgent mansion furniture that, while adorned with carved faces and wailing women, could more than accommodate the both of them. Beyond that, they’d passed countless rooms on their journey here. There was no reason for anyone to be sleeping on the ground.

Except for the possibility of bed bugs, of course.

“Why don’t you just take the room across the hall?” Kylo asked, stepping up behind Hux and watching as he kneeled to smooth out the comforter.

Hux looked back over his shoulder. “And leave you all alone, here? Perish the thought,” he said, standing. “I stood a few feet back for Constance and you were almost beheaded. I’m not leaving your side.” He smiled, gesturing with one hand. “It doesn’t add up, pragmatically.”

“Well, you also threw me in there without telling me what was going on,” Kylo mumbled, eyes locked on Hux’s fingers as he started to unbutton his vest. They were thin and elegant, pretty clothed in white silk. As the vest came off, Kylo was struck again by Hux’s thinness, by the narrowness of his ribs and hips. For a man with such a powerful presence and paralyzing gaze, his body seemed to take up no space at all. He looked as if he might slip between the cracks of floor, swallowed up by the very house he meant to best.

Hux set the vest over the side of nightstand and unlaced his shoes, setting them at the side of the bed. He rubbed both hands together and pursed his lips, sitting down on his makeshift bed. “Most people get to return to the ride after Constance says one or two creepy things. She is rarely so aggressive,” he explained, crossing his legs over each other. “It seems better to maintain people’s understanding of reality unless otherwise absolutely necessary.”

Kylo swayed his head from side to side, weighing the opinion. “I think I still would have wanted some warning,” he said, throwing off his own jacket and kicking off his shoes. He left both things in a heap near the end of the bed, crawling onto the mattress with tense shoulders. He laid down despite the itch that sprung forth from his imagination, pulling the holey sheet over his body. As he settled, Hux rose and blew out all the candles, obscuring Kylo’s vision until Hux was nothing but a black smudge in a black room.

Fabric shifted and rubbed together as Hux laid down, the room giving way to the howl of wind against the walls. Kylo closed his eyes and folded his hands over his stomach, focusing on the sound of the outside “world.” The crawling sensation refused to stop and his stomach turned, every creak forcing his eyes open. He expected to see Constance float through the door, smiling ear to ear with her axe in hand. This was her home, after all. There was no hiding from her, here. Laying down to rest was a foolish activity, no matter how stress had exhausted him.

“Hux,” he said, rolling over the side of the bed and bearing down at the darkness below, trying to catch Hux’s shape with his eyes. “Hux,” he repeated, reaching out with his hand until he felt his fingers poke against something. Hux jolted and rolled over, the sound of fabric shifting interrupting the wind for just a moment.

“What is it, Kylo?” he asked, voice low and raspy. Maybe this was why they were laying down to rest at what would be three o’clock in the real world. Maybe Hux was tired.

“How did you end up here with me?” Kylo asked. He could not deny the paranoid suspicion that clung to his brain, the voice that said Hux had to be in on this. He wanted more than anything to dismiss the thought, to calm himself and embrace Hux as a complete ally. “Did you follow me?”

There was silence and then a sigh. Hux sat up, drawing closer to Kylo. His features became clearer in the dark, but his eyes remained pits, details unseen. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I originally took this job to pay my way through university. When I first showed up, there was this old man who worked the front of the mansion. Tarkin, was his name. He had a face like a corpse. Really looked the part for the ride.” Hux raised his hand, gesturing toward his own face and sucking in his cheeks for a second, making them gaunt and sharp. “I think he used to do what I do. The day I showed up he said something like ‘the house loves devil-haired and British boys.’”

Kylo furrowed his brows. A new sort of creepy-crawling feeling passed over his skin. “It sounds like he was hitting on you.”

Hux scowled and swatted at the air between them “He wasn’t hitting on me,” he said, though Kylo wasn’t convinced. Hux carried on anyway, grumbling to himself. “In any case, he tried to warn me about ghosts leading riders astray or the house ‘doing as it pleased.’ I thought he was mad until he left for retirement and I started hearing whispers in the house. Strange little things, not really words. Just sounds. Almost like a song.”

Hux fell quiet and Kylo leaned closer. “And then what?”

Hux’s exhale tickled his face and Kylo jumped back, beet red. In his blindness, he’d drawn too close. He could only hope Hux hadn’t noticed.

If Hux did, he made no mention of it, continuing with change in his voice. “People started vanishing. Whenever I heard the sound, people would disappear. I caught ride cars taking people off on the wrong track a few times, but the security footage showed nothing out of the ordinary. No one would believe me, so I just...well, I started chasing down cars. Most of the time I can catch up and get here before the song stops.”

“I didn’t hear anything before I was taken,” Kylo said. He laid back against the mattress, trying to see if he could remember anything out of the ordinary. Nothing came forward and he knotted his fingers in the sheets, frowning. If what Hux was saying was true, then the man was a bonafide saint and would-be martyr. No bad man paid for their college education by risking death among the supernatural. Not unless they were particularly stupid, an idea Hux’s very aura seemed to dissuade. “If I were a Haunted Mansion chosen one, I’d leave like Tarkin did,” he continued, playing with the sheets between his fingers. “I wouldn’t run after anyone.”

Hux laughed and Kylo turned his head toward him, amazed how bright Hux could sound in complete darkness. “I tell myself I’m going to leave every time, but I can’t bring myself to do it,” he said, shaking his head. “No one else hears the warning like I do.” Hux laid his arms over the top of the bed, pressing his cheek to the mattress. “It has nothing to do with charity,” he continued, pursing his lips. “I just couldn’t live with myself if I knew people were dying because I ran off.” His voice dropped, low and quiet. Even obscured by the darkness, Kylo felt his eyes burn against his skin, searing hot. “And now I know something like ghosts exist. I loathe to think what might happen to me if I left.”

Kylo nodded. “So you’re a god-fearing man now?”

“No,” Hux said, slipping back to the floor. “I’m a ghost-fearing man. If this place is any indication, spirits are vindictive and wild. I’d rather not have any out for my head.”

Kylo reached up and touched his neck, Constance’s blade shining in his mind. “Nice choice of words.”

Hux groaned. “You know I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kyo didn’t know that, not for sure, but he took Hux’s word. The story would have to be enough to placate his concerns. It wasn’t possible to get anything more concrete, not while trapped in an extra-dimensional ghost mansion. “I know,” he said, curling up against the mattress. He closed his eyes again and wrestled with sleep, trying to pin it down as the house grew colder. He shuddered and tugged the moth-chewed sheets against his body, unable to keep himself warm.

After forty minutes of tossing and turning, Kylo gave up. “Hux,” he said, earning a clear hum in response. He raised his brows, scooting over toward the edge of the bed again. “You aren’t asleep yet?”

Hux shrugged. “I don’t generally sleep much when I’m here,” he said. “Keeping watch and all that.”

As far as minimum wage employees went, Hux was far too dedicated to the service, safety, and happiness of the customer. Kylo sighed and reached down, stealing the comforter away from Hux. “Get up here and sleep. The bed is big enough, I need the blanket, and you need the rest,” Kylo said, already getting comfortable..

Hux sat up, holding the pillow against his stomach. “Who put you in charge, here? I thought I was the guide.”

“You’ll find I’m rather stubborn,” Kylo said, tucking himself under one half of the blanket. He patted the other side of the mattress, smiling. “Now get up here.”

Hux relented with a grunt, dropping himself on the open side of the bed. He hugged his pillow against his chest and laid down, glaring at Kylo from behind the top corner of the pillow. “If we both die, I’ll kill you.”

Kylo smirked. “Can ghosts kill each other?” he asked. Despite Hux’s addition, the bed remained cold. It seemed he lacked the body fat to work as a heater, an unfortunate reality but one Kylo could stand. His heart was racing, warming him through proximity to Hux despite his frigidity. Feeling his heart dance, it dawned on Kylo that this could be an awful idea. At the same time, watching Hux’s eyes flutter as he approached the edge of sleep was almost worth whatever disaster might come.

“At this rate, we’ll find out,” Hux whispered and Kylo chuckled in his throat, sleep trickling in and sending him off even as the wind rattled the walls around them.

 

Several hours later, they awoke in a tangle of limbs, noses pressed together and lips far too close.


	3. Madame Kanata

The bramble was thick and overgrown, crowding the walkways. Dark leaves shielded old labels and signposts, the scent of compost inescapable. For a moment, it was easy for Kylo think he was alone. The only clear line of sight was up, straight through the broken glass ceiling and into the grey sky. Everything else was tangles of vine and branches, so tightly knit he had to fight his way through. The rustle of leaves running over his body was deafening, drowning out the rest of the world. He felt his way through the brush and it was endless, all consuming. He didn’t realize there was way out until he found it, stumbling into the open.

Hux looked up from his place on the ground, knees pressed to the dusty earth. His sleeves were hiked up around his elbows, white skin of his forearms exposed. He was so pale it was difficult to see where his gloves ended and his skin began. Kylo found himself studying that span of skin, wondering if it was cold as it looked. He thought it must be like satin, cool to the touch and smooth against the fingers. His gaze followed Hux’s hand as it dipped into the planter box and came away with a tomato. The red sheen was dark and spotted, the beginnings of rot setting in. Kylo swallowed and drew closer, looking through the plants. Everything was dying and his stomach tightened inside him.

“I know it isn’t glamorous,” Hux said, pulling another tomato out. He held it against his chest, cradling it like a child so the weak skin wouldn’t tear. “But, this is all we have, here.”

Before Hux could finish his sentence, Kylo was mentally correcting him. They were standing in a rundown greenhouse that smelled of corpses — which might be full of corpses — but Hux was glamorous. He was too skinny for old Hollywood charm, but there was an air of aristocracy about him. More Mr. Darcy than Marlon Brando, but Kylo couldn’t find anything wrong with that. In fact, if his inability to look away from the crook of Hux’s elbow was any indication, he might have even preferred it.

Kylo crouched down beside him, pulling a pepper from its plant. The surface reminded him of his face during middle school, bumpy and gnarled, and he curled his lips. “As long as it's edible, I’ll be fine with it,” he said, raising the pepper to his nose. It almost smelled like a pickle, which was enough to make him want to crush it in his palm.

“Well,” Hux said, gathering a few more vegetables and berries into his arms, “I haven’t died yet, so we’ll have to hope the trend continues.” He smiled and it was almost as warm as the room around them. Kylo’s clothing stuck to his back where humidity made him sweaty. As his appearance slipped toward slimy, Hux looked immaculate. Even kneeling in the dirt could not dampen his appeal.

Hux rose with the food and cut across the greenhouse, stepping over shriveled vines and crumbling statutes. The rubble and waste crackled under his feet and Kylo followed him, doing his best to copy Hux’s bob-and-weave through the web of vines. “Is this why you’re so thin?” Kylo asked, ducking his head beneath a low branch. Hux’s movements shook the vines around him and he gained on him, snapping twigs against his shoulders on the way. “Do you only eat rotten fruits?”

A scoff cut through the vines, sharp enough to lodge itself in Kylo’s skull. “You think you’re very funny, don’t you?” Hux called back, his voice guiding Kylo forward.

“I’d like to think I can be witty,” Kylo replied. His hair caught against a branch and he cursed, pressing his fingers to the agitated bit of his scalp. As he untangled himself, he could only thank the very branches that snagged him. At the very least, they obscured his awkwardness from Hux’s eyes. Wit and elegance were not the same things.

He came through the overgrown plants to find Hux waiting at the door, water droplets clinging to the glass walls around them. Hux raised a brow at him and stepped closer. His hand came toward Kylo’s face and Kylo dropped his eyes to the floor, lungs frozen in panic. “We’ll see if that’s true,” Hux said, pulling a stray leaf from Kylo’s hair. He held it out between them and then let it float to the floor, swinging back and forth in its descent like a pendulum. “But, I eat rotten vegetables too.”

Kylo looked up in time to catch the tail end of Hux’s smirk. He wanted to reach out a grab it, hold it in place, but Hux was out the door before he could do anything but gape.

Stepping outside, Kylo felt the temperature drop twenty degrees. Cold air caressed his sweaty skin, racking him with shivers. The mansion sat across the yard, a few hundred tombstones spread out between them and the front door like boats on the water, vanishing and reappearing behind rolls of tall, yellow grass. Kylo looked over his shoulder to the ring of woods around them, eyeing the point where the cobble road path off the house gave way to dirt and then to thick, ropey roots and grasses.

“Keep up,” Hux said. He was already halfway to the house, weaving between crumbling headstones. “I didn’t think I’d need to repeat the warning about staying closer, but here I am, doing it.” Hux slid across a fallen statue, holding their food close to his chest to keep it from falling to the earth. Kylo struggled to keep pace with him, stumbling over unseen rocks and feet catching in soft, muddy pockets. Hux moved with such grace that Kylo could only imagine he’d been here a thousand times, making the same run for rotten groceries while trying to help some more moron get by.

The patio creaked beneath their feet, old wood bending under the weight. Kylo shifted positions until it quieted, looking up to find a green bell pepper in his face. Of all the food he’d been forced to smell that morning, it was the least repugnant. “I’ve got a taste for the awful stuff now,” Hux said, waving the pepper in his face. “So you can eat this one. I’d prefer you didn’t get sick. That’d make my job more unmanageable than it already is.”

“Right,” Kylo said, toes curling in his socks. Studying the pepper’s bumpy surface, he thought back to his childhood living room. Survivor was almost on the household television, filling the gaps in programming caused by the writer’s strike. The contestants did all sorts of vile things, eating food that hardly looked like food before running off for marathons and rowing contests. Surely one pepper wouldn’t kill him if they could eat sludge off rocks. He inhaled and lifted and hand, fingertips shaking. “Right,” he said again, trying to will himself forward.

Kylo hesitated and Hux shoved the pepper against his mouth. He bit down reflexively.

Kylo sunk his teeth into the pepper and then blinked, crispness opening up his sinuses and his basic thought processes. Hux was still holding the pepper, his brows furrowed and head cocked to one side as Kylo ate out of his grasp. It was an act of impulse, the result of a tired, stressed mind coming up against a pretty face and food after a long night and bizarre “morning”. He pulled back as soon as he could, head turned to the side as he chewed. The skin peeled away from the inner bits and slid across his tongue like a snail, slimy and viscous. Kylo wrinkled his nose but got it down and Hux cracked a smile. His stomach gurgled, tongue screaming in protest.

“So, you’re a picky eater?” Hux said, still holding the pepper out. Kylo accepted it with his hands the second time, sticking up his nose to hide the flush high on his cheeks.

The wind rushed around them, rattling the mansion. “No,” Kylo mumbled, looking at everything except Hux. When spectral shadows passed over distant gravestones, he closed his eyes. “It was fine.” His words came out taught like tightrope wire and Hux exhaled a laugh, shaking his head and heading toward the front door.

“You’re a very excellent liar, Kylo,” he said, pulling the door open. “Have you considered making a career of deception and betrayal?”

Kylo shook his head and Hux, still grinning, dipped back into the dark foyer of the mansion. Before following after, Kylo turned to look at the place where the familiar aspects of the mansion — the front steps, the high pillars, the wrought iron gate with floral accents —became a mess of tombs, grass, and mud. He tried to picture the, winding line of Disneyland guests, guarded on either side by vendors selling Nightmare Before Christmas hats and stuffed animals. Beyond that there was the water and the little shop with the sub-par clam chowder and too-thick, too-rubbery bread bowls.

While looking out at the perpetual night which owned the mansion and its realm, he wondered if all time was frozen. Would his friends still be waiting for him when he escaped, unaware he’d been spirited away to Walt Disney’s personal torture pit? Or would it be days or weeks later? Would Missing Persons posters and Facebook posts litter the world, his lopsided smile plastered in everyone’s faces? A chill came over him as realization settled in.

It was possible that Hux, as the very unfortunate guardian of all lost Disney guests, was special. Maybe time only moved for him. But the more likely explanation for why Hux could “notice people were gone” or had “gone off the rails” was that, while stuck in the thirteenth hour of the mansion, time still passed regularly for everyone else. He could be gone weeks or months or even years. At the very least, he’d reemerge to find the world questioning him. At the worst, he’d come back to find himself completely out of time.

But, either way, there’d be no explaining his disappearance. He’d come back and they’d accuse him of running off.

They’d think something was wrong with him again.

Kylo darted inside and shut the door harder than he’d meant to, the loud slam making Hux jump. One tomato fell to the ground, bursting open on the hardwood. Hux turned to look over his shoulder, eyes wide. “What was that about?” he asked, brows knitting together. “Do you mean to draw everyone’s attention here?”

Dust filtered down through the air, jostled from its place on the ceiling. Kylo hung his head and shook it, tugging on his hood’s drawstring hard enough to pull the other side almost through the eyelets. “Sorry,” he said, mouth feeling as cobweb riddled as the room around them. Hux’s gaze felt heavy on his skin and he shifted beneath it, moving toward the burst tomato. He knelt down to deal with it and Hux caught his shoulder, dragging him back toward his feet.

So close together, it was impossible to look anywhere but Hux’s face. “It’s fine,” Hux said, pulling the drawstring of Kylo’s hood back into place. He smoothed out the shoulders of Kylo’s jacket with his palms, pressing away the wrinkles. His hands stopped over his triceps, taking firm hold. “I didn’t mean to scold you,” he continued, locking their eyes. “You just need to try and be more careful.”

Even though the thick fabric of his jacket, Hux’s touch was almost overwhelming. Kylo pursed his lips and swallowed, the sound of his jaw clicking heavy in his ears. “I’m just,” he started, words shivering in the cold of the mansion. He closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels. “I’m just worried about what happens even if we get out of here.”

His fingers pressed harder into his shoulders, easing away tension as they moved back and forth. “What do you mean?” Hux asked, his voice distinct in the darkness behind Kylo’s eyelids. Kylo was tempted to stay there, in his own blindness, forever. It was easy to imagine they were somewhere more pleasant when he couldn’t see the grey walls and cobwebs. So long as Hux kept talking, he could think they were anywhere else, safe together.

Kylo brought one hand to his face, smoothing his fingers over the burning skin beneath his eyes. “People are going to think I ran away,” he said, free hand already screwing with drawstring Hux had just fixed. “My friends are going to think I ditched them. My parents—,” he shook his head, jaw-locking, “—they’re going to assume the worst. No matter what happens here, I’m fucked.”

“Kylo,” Hux said, fixing his drawstring again. His voice was satin soft, enveloping Kylo in its hold. “I can’t make you any promises about what will happen on the outside of this house, but I promise that I’ll get you home. What happens there, I can’t say. But I’ll be here for you. I swear.”

A sigh danced over his skin and Kylo opened his eyes, mind drawn back to moment he’d woken up.

Laying in bed, a soft breath had brushed against his cheek, stirring him from his dreams. Where he’d spent all night imaging ghosts and wicked things, he’d awoken to find that Hux’s eyelashes were paper thin, translucent at the tips and then golden; like crowns for his eyes. The rest of his hair was disheveled, red strands pressed from their places and hanging over his face. It begged to be pet, pulling at Kylo’s fingertips. Thoughts numbed by rest, Kylo had laced his hand through Hux’s hair, running his fingernails over the scalp. It was softer than he’d expected and his hand glided through it. The smooth run of it against his palm had almost been enough to distract him from the moment Hux’s eyes opened, green even in the dim lighting.

Hux had shifted and grumbled, bringing the tips of their noses together as he tried to fight off sleep. Kylo had swallowed, overtaken by the warmth around him. Their legs and arms were tangled together, the smooth backs of Hux’s hands folded against his biceps. In the haze of rest, Kylo could not tell where his body began or ended. He’d only felt the heat coming off Hux and trembled, fulfilled in ways that transcended words.

Standing in the foyer and faced with Hux’s hands warming his arms, Kylo was struck by that same sensation. It pierced his chest and buried deep in his heart like a spearhead, pinning him to senseless action. He leaned forward, closing the space between their faces. Their noses brushed, as they had in bed, and Hux’s fingers tensed around his triceps. He felt Hux’s breath against his cheek again and dropped his eyes to Hux’s lips, swallowing.

“Kylo,” Hux whispered, voice wavering. His gaze passed back and forth over Kylo’s face before settling on his eyes. “Kylo,” he repeated, softer. His grip loosened and his shoulders dropped, his military posture replaced by something loose and malleable. He bent as Kylo bent, their bodies coming closing together as their lips brushed over one another’s.

The temperature of the room dropped, Kylo’s breath freezing in the air. It clouded his vision and he leaned away from Hux, forehead wrinkled. Laughter echoed off the walls and his blood pressure spiked, head turning toward the far side of the room.

Dozens of ghosts hung off the rails of the twin staircases, howling and clapping their hands. Their dull blue glow illuminated the dark corners, unsettling a few bats and sending them screeching off through the air. Mr. Dameron was perched on the far corner, waving a hand and grinning ear to ear. Kylo returned to gesture slowly, uncertain how to proceed, and then dragged his eyes across the rest of the crowd. What he found next was far less welcoming.

Where the two staircases met, blue wisps swirled together. Their gentle rotation grew more rapid with each moment, becoming a vortex before his very eyes. Whispers and men’s shouts sounded with every turn of light. Hux pulled away from him as the lights took form, the screams giving way to a woman’s hum.

“My,” Constance said, remnants of blue light wafting off her as she stared down from the second floor, “what an outstanding guest we have.” She floated forward, passing through the railing and moving down toward them without having to raise a finger. Without an axe in her hand, her beauty was evident. She was radiant beyond just the glow of her ghostly soul, nose sloping and elegant like an aristocrat’s. Her hair, pinned up and covered partway by a long veil, reminded Kylo of the sort of up-dos his grandmother wore in old photographs.

Looking to Hux for help offered no comfort. He was sheet white, paler than any of the ghosts around them. Constance passed him a little smile, saying, “Thank you so much for accommodating him last night, Hux. I was so out of sorts; I had to no idea we had a guest, let alone one of such renown.”

“It was nothing, ma’am,” Hux said, words coming out like a prerecorded message. Constance plucked one of the peppers out of his arms, turning it over in her hand with a laugh like the beating of wasp’s wings.

“I see he took you to our gardens,” she said, turning back to Kylo. The pepper floated from her hand and hung in the air, held up by nothing outside her will. She set one hand against Kylo’ s forearm, making all his muscles contract. He felt her despite her lack of physical form, the place where she touched burning like her hands were made of dry ice. “Did you see the mountain laurel? The blooms are just to die for.”

Kylo shook his head. “I, ah, didn’t quite get the chance,” he said. His head was spinning and her smile crawled up his spine, every word a spider set the bind up his thoughts with its silk. He feared she could hear him thinking, little smile betraying so much more knowledge than she deserved to have. Her touch, like noxious gas, made him feel sicker with every passing moment and he longed for nothing more than to flee.

The other ghosts filtered in, coming down off the steps and crowding around them. Constance hummed and dropped her hand, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Well, that is a real shame,” she said, Southern drawl heavier than it had been. It was thick like molten sugar and just as sweet, but Kylo had never boasted a great tolerance for candy. “I just want to apologize for the way I acted earlier. I was so overcome with grief over my last late husband Reginald—”

“Was it not George that passed last, my lady?” Hux interjected, his face hard. She turned to him with a tight smile and nodded, a venomous laugh coming from between her teeth.

“Oh, but of course,” she replied, fingers curling into little fists. “I apologize. It is just so hard to keep these things in order. I have been so unfortunate in the realm of marriage. I’ve never been spared an opportunity to grieve over any of my lost loves.” The ends of her dress became like smoke and she simmered, giggling to herself. Hux looked on without fear and Kylo thought to himself that he’d never met a man quite so brave and handsome at the same time.

Constance clapped her hands and turned her attention back to Kylo, smoky tendrils retaking a more solid image. “Nonetheless, it is my pleasure to welcome you to my home. I’ve had many important visitors before, but never a prince.”

The word “prince” struck his ear and all the blood drained from his face. She carried on speaking, every word tearing into the very fabric of his being. Somewhere along the line she said “lost nation of Alderaan” and “tragedy”, but everything was lost behind the two simple words that followed.

“I have heard you prefer _Ben Solo_ to my liege. Is that right?” she asked, voice still so honeyed as she tore out his heart and swallowed it whole. He nodded dumbly, head feeling hollow and heavy at the same time, and she purred. “Good, then. You and I must settle down for dinner sometime. We’ll make a bit of a party out of it.”

The crowd erupted in raucous cheers, but Kylo could not heard them. He fidgeted and tangled his hands up in his jacket drawstrings, just nodding his head. She went on and on about herself and the house, about how glorious their dinner would be, but her words gave way to simple sounds without meaning in his mind. By the time she dissipated into smoke, he’d nervously counted to ten a dozen times. The other ghosts swung around in circles, eager to talk with him, but Hux took firm hold of his arm and wrestled him away, taking him down a long hall and into a little sitting room he didn’t recognize.

“Kylo,” Hux said, snapping him from his daze. The word played over into his mind until it sounded familiar and he exhaled, crumbling against the seat. Hux frowned and sat at his side, watching as he struggled to regulate his breathing. “Kylo,” he said again, setting a hand on his back, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, sitting up and looking straight ahead. “Nothing, I just got scared seeing her, is all. I thought she was going to kill me.” It was a good enough excuse, all things considered. But, it wouldn’t be able to prevent the inevitable conversation. Constance had called him out, pulled back the sheets and thrown his secrets out into the open.

Ben Solo was a TV darling. He’d “ruled” the magical kingdom of Alderaan for six straight seasons of Disney channel bliss. Everyone knew his name and, given how things ended up, everyone had their thoughts. Kylo wavered in the face of Hux’s judgement, waiting to hear the clipped opinion on his life from a man he’d only just met. That was how things usually went, after all. Everybody knew exactly who Ben Solo was, right down to the Season Two: Special Edition disk cover.

Hux sat beside him in silence and Kylo waited for the questions, for the opinions, for the pity or the scorn. Instead, he felt Hux’s hand rub circles into his back. Looking over, he found Hux chewing his bottom lip, face screwed up in concentration. He watched until his curiosity got the better of him. “Hux,” he said, drawing his attention. “You looked scared out there, too. Did you also think she was going to kill me?”

Hux closed his eyes and pulled his hand back to his lap. He rubbed them together and kicked his feet, sighing. “I thought she might, yes,” he said, looking up at Kylo. Any of the authority he once displayed was gone, replaced by a frown that made Kylo’s heart ache. Hux pressed his lips together and wrung his hands, muscles of his jaw twitching. “I’ve just never been faced with a situation like this before.”

For a moment, Kylo thinks Hux means their little brush before Constance arrived. But the way Hux seems to shrink and become meek makes him think otherwise and he turns his head to the side. “What do you mean?” he asked, leaning forward. “What situation?”

Hux set their food aside and cradled his head in his hands, mussing up his own hair. He set his elbows upon his knees and bowed over. “She isn’t supposed to come out like this,” he said, delivering every word like it ran the risk of breaking. “She’s never left the attic before, not for anyone. I didn’t even think she could.” Hux sighed and sat up straight, shaking his hands in the air. “I just don’t know what to make of this. I thought I knew everything this house could throw at me.”

Kylo’s eyes went out of focus, room turning to a smear of fuzzy edges. So, this wasn’t business as usual.Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. Very little in his life ever seemed to go according to plan. His pretend princely privileges seemed only to extend as far as the uncomfortable and the unfortunate. An itch broke out on his arms and legs, sweat starting to form at the nape of his neck. Constance wasn’t just out go get him in the typical sense. Oh no. She wanted him dead enough to crawl out of her dusty little hole and come dancing around the foyer after an eternity of isolation. He flopped back against the couch, defeated.

At his side, Hux ground his teeth. He came up off the couch and paced the room, tracking footprints in the thick layer of dirt on the floor. His shoes scraped against the rough, worn edges of the hardwood boards, grating against Kylo’s ears. “I’m supposed to help you,” he said, throwing up his hands. “And here I am, with nothing. I don’t have anymore of a clue as to what is going on than you do.” He turned, slumping against the wall. Picture frames rattled and the next word came out like a blade to his own heart. “Useless.”

Kylo raised his brows and watched Hux berate himself, following his body as he marched back and forth across the room. Frowning, he turned his attention to the pile of fruit vegetables on the couch. Staring at the ugly, warped produce, he lifted the pepper from earlier and took a loud enough bite to draw Hux’s attention. Chewing, he forced a smile. Hux scrutinized him with a cocked head and he held out the half-eaten pepper. “I wouldn’t have found this, without you. That is worth something.”

“Is a bell pepper supposed to make me feel better?” Hux turned his back on Kylo. His chest heaved and he set his fists against the wall, body bent in the middle. “I’m your guide, not a glorified farmer. I should know what’s going on,” he said, voice soft and delicate as tissue paper. “If I can’t say what's happening, how are you supposed to leave?”

Hux’s voice trembled and Kylo rushed to his feet, stumbling forward on his way over. It was his turn to set a hand on Hux’s shoulder. “We’ll leave together,” Kylo said. There was no room for argument. He reached deep down in his bones and blood to bring forth the royal authority of relatives past. By the end of this, they’d be laughing in the middle of New Orleans Square with Mickey Mouse-shaped pretzels. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

Kylo put his finger to the middle of Hux’s bat bow tie, pressing its little face down. “Earlier, you were trying to find out the identity the house gave me. Well,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “she said I was the prince of Alderaan. Knowing that should help, right?” It was entirely possible that it didn’t matter at all, but he was reaching. For the sake of Hux’s self-esteem and his ability to keep on hoping, he was reaching. Grasping at anything other than his real name would have been preferable, but a man under stringent circumstances could only ask so much.

Hux stared at Kylo’s hand on his shoulder before sticking up his nose and taking on the same deadpan face he’d worn on the outside of the ride. “Yes, well, I guess we know something now,” Hux said, voice trailing off. His eyes narrowed and he brought one hand to his chin, the machinery of his mind whirring loud enough to cover distant, ghostly cackles.

Kylo swallowed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do you, ah, have any questions about what she said?” he asked, eager to get it out of the way. He’d rather get all the prince bullshit covered than leave it to linger like the rotten tomato out on the foyer floor.

If there were crickets to chirp, they would have. Hux dropped his head close to one shoulder, saying, “No?” with the sort of shrill tone that implied, “Why would I, idiot?”

Kylo looked back with a wrinkled brow to match Hux’s. “No questions at all?” he asked, dropping his finger from Hux’s chest. Hux gave a slow nod, overplaying the action, and Kylo listened for his own heartbeat, certain he’d already died. In all his life, no one had brushed aside his real name with such genuine apathy. The world had accosted him since childhood, but here was Hux, wholly unimpressed. He felt like garbage under his eyes, but garbage by his own merit, not because of his name. He was just another random idiot, some stupid boy lost on a ride who tried to solve problems with bell peppers.

It was marvelous.

Hux peeled away from Kylo’s hand, returning to his pacing. His frown slipped away, replaced by a furrowed brow Kylo figured was at least a little better. “There are a few questions we need to ask now that we know how they think of you, though,” he said, pointing a finger in the air and snapping his body toward Kylo. If brilliance had a face, it would be Hux’s in that moment, eyes bright with ravenous thought. “I think it’s about time you met a friend of mine.”

The smirk that passed over Hux’s lips threatened to knock Kylo out. He grappled with his composure and walked up beside Hux, watching as he prepared to run back out into the halls. “I’ll be glad to meet them,” he said, though he longed to retreat to the bedroom and pull the sheets over his bed. As much as he wanted to leave, running into Constance again was hardly on his list of things to do. “Where to now?”

The whoops and howls of mansion phantoms filled the room the second the door creaked open. “Tell me, Kylo,” Hux said, voice dipping to a low and gravelly place that made Kylo’s throat constrict for more than one reason. “Have you ever been in a seance?”

 

They worked back through the maze of hallways, returning to the very place Kylo had stepped off his ride car. Hux pressed through the door it had fled through, revealing a familiar span of portraits. The portion of the ride Kylo had turned off on appeared before them, changed. The floor lacked tracks and the rattling coffin was replaced by a long coffee table, ride elements made real by the mansion. And, at the far end where Kylo might have escaped had things not gone so awry, blue light flickered.

Bells rung through the hall, white smoke rolling out from the light. It coated the floor and swallowed them up to their ankles, sending a chill up Kylo’s spine. He stepped backward and watched the smoke filter by, thick enough to obscure his feet. The ringing grew louder, faster, and his heartbeat went with it. Hux called from him and he looked up, squinting against the light. It was bright enough to burn his eyes, but he made out Hux’s silhouette. With the light pressing at his back, Hux almost seemed to glow. “Come on,” he said, reaching out with his hand. “We’re right here.”

Kylo inched forward until he stood at Hux’s side. He turned his head to look into the light, squinting. As objects started to come into focus, the light dissipated, leaving only the dull glow of a few floating candles and empty blackness. The candles danced through the air, slow as they moved closer and closer to the mouth of the room. Kylo swallowed and took Hux’s hand, squeezing it. A few seconds later, Hux leaned in and whispered, “It’s alright.” Then, he squeezed back.

The ring of bells returned and the candles stopped, turning in a circle before them. A laugh carried through the darkness and it stole Kylo’s breath. The black pit in the center of the candles seemed to roll and shift, Kylo rubbed his eyes and watched as nothing took shape into something, a glass orb forming before his very eyes.It hung in the air, candlelight reflecting off its surface. Kylo bit down on the inside of his cheek and tried to step back, but Hux’s hand held him in place. “Trust me,” Hux said. For whatever reason, Kylo did.

A woman’s voice overtook the bells, strong and rhythmic. “Noble and dismayed, shiver you shan’t. Come forth and indulge in my ghostly chant!” it said, the flames leaping at the end of each word. Hux urged him forward and Kylo steadied himself before the orb. It filled with grey smoke, the walls around them rattling. The smoke twisted and the tendrils took form, becoming a woman’s face. She opened her eyes, massive behind great spectacles, and stared through Kylo’s very soul. “This,” Hux whispered, “is Madame Kanata.”

Kylo raised his free hand, waving. His hold on Hux was too tight but he took deep breaths through his nose, struggling under the immense weight of her presence. She was something more than the other ghosts, her gaze seeming to undo him from within. Even Constance, who’d left him feeling so exposed, seemed insignificant beside the force of Kanata. She smiled as that thought passed through his mind.

“Skittish yet hopeful, here you stand. Out with it now, boy — tell me your demand!” she bellowed, the pounding on the walls coming to match the pounding in his skull Objects lifted into the air, candles starting a new flow in the company of books and desk chairs. Kylo snapped his head toward Hux, finding his expression soft and unbothered. Sucking air deep down in his lungs, he carried on despite the animal part of his brain that demanded he turn tail and run.

Tongue like a wet sponge in his mouth, he spoke. “Madame Kanata, we’re trapped here and we don’t know what the house wants from us. If you can say anything about that, we’d be very grateful.” His fingers were shaking and Hux smoothed his thumb over Kylo’s, drawing his attention downward. At the same time, Kanata’s eyes drifted to Hux, smile disappearing.

“They think of him as Prince Ben Solo of Alderaan. I offer you this name so you might tell us the full story the mansion wants us to tell,” Hux said, doing his best not to flinch when Kylo’s grip grew bone crushing. “Can you do that for me, Madame? I would appreciate it beyond measure.”

The pounding stopped and the furniture slowed, falling still in the air as the candles continued their track. “Astray and forlorn; I will speak out. But know that this house will not accept doubt!” she said, floating back and away, her eyes dragging over Kylo when she spoke of doubt. Her orb came to a rest on a table, the candles settling down along the edges, illuminating two chairs. Hux dragged him forward and they sat down.

“Hands up here, Kylo,” Hux said, bringing their joined hands atop the table and setting his free one palm down on the table cloth. Kylo copied him as Kanata shut her eyes, humming a single note that reverberated inside his lungs. Warmth, not unlike what he’d felt tangled up with Hux, blossomed over his skin as she carried on, her resonance connecting with something magical he could not name.

The bells came again, slower and louder. They were heavier in his ears, more like church bells and the little, servant-calling things they’d been before. Even with his mouth closed, the taste of sugar rolled over his tongue, his nose catching hints of tarts and fruit. The smoke in Kanata’s orb grew brighter, her blue halo brightening, and Kylo closed his eyes to safeguard himself

“I see what you seek, the one way free,” she said, voice booming. “But, you will struggle with what I foresee. The odds are poor, your chances slim. To leave this place, you must bend to her whim! White cloth and red axe, wedding bells chime. A single error and you’re out of time. A cold kiss and love, this is your fate. Speak up now and strike before it’s too late. A blue-blooded groom, a flash of red. Blood boils at your skin and fills you with dread. Spirit and man joined, bound up forever. Constance will have you lest you are clever.”

The warmth left and the ringing stopped. Kylo opened his eyes to find Kanata frowning, her candles dull enough to let the darkness creep in. He swallowed and dropped his hands off the table, letting go of Hux. “She wants to marry me,” he said, voice flat. His hands balled into his fists as he thought of all the portraits in the attic. So many men had married her. None had survived. Of course his odds were slim. She could only be more powerful now that she was dead, immune to mortal harms. There was no “cleverness” about it. He was doomed.

“We already knew that,” Hux said, setting his hand on Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo shrugged it off for the first time and Hux scowled, carrying on. “She wouldn’t have invited you for dinner, otherwise. All we know now is that we have to play her game to get you out of here.”

Kylo stood up, unable to stay seated any longer. “Right,” he said, squaring his shoulders and furrowing his brow. “Because marrying the black widow bride is exactly what I want to do.” He shook his head, stepping away from the table and toward the outer hall. “Maybe I should just stay here forever,” he declared, leaning against the door frame. “Eating rotten fruit isn’t that awful.”

“Come and stay with us, why don’t you? Then you’d never need to tell Hux adieu,” Kanata chimed in, making Hux cough. He turned to her with owl eyes and she carried on, unperturbed. “For a while, anyway. All humans rot. But don’t let sweet death dampen your soft spot. You two would make quite handsome ghosts. And, once you're dead, we’ll be much better hosts! You are both so cute, if I must say. In fact, together you are almost ga—”

“Madame!” Hux said, voice breaking. He cleared his throat and smoothed his hands down the front of his coat. Despite the darkness, Kylo could see the redness of his cheeks. “Thank you so much for your help. It was much appreciated. But, I’m afraid that Kylo and I need to be on our way. Weddings to have, things to do. Thank you for your time.” Hux’s words came out in a flurry and he tipped his head to her, darting over toward Kylo and taking him by the arm. As they went down the hall together, Kanata cackled, her bells singing.

“Victorian language and all that,” Hux explained, waving his hand, but Kylo wasn’t so sure. Kanata, for all the questions she’d raised and answers, highlighted something they’d yet to address. Outside his pending nuptials to a murderous banshee, one question hung in his mind.

Would Hux really have kissed him back in the foyer?


	4. The Real Chills Come Later

When they returned to the foyer, the dropped tomato was still there, waiting for them. So, too, was Poe Dameron.

Poe stood, beaming, with a hand outstretched toward both Hux and Kylo. At his side stood a man who matched him in the vibrancy of his dress. His coat, purple enough to stand out through the blue glow of his body, was accompanied by a single black glove, the severity of it screaming intentional decision. He regarded Kylo with narrowed eyes but retained a smile. His skin was dark and Kylo thought back to the Confederate soldiers in the ballroom. Constance's southern drawl echoed in his ear and he swallowed, averting his eyes.

The mansion was home to fantastical ghosts and eternal night. Of all the ends it could pursue, he hoped "uncomfortable historical accuracy" wasn't one of them.  

Then again, spousal murder was on the table. It seemed that pretty much anything was a possibility, Disney or not.

Poe stepped forward and bowed at the waist, dark curls falling over his face. When he rose, his smile persisted, almost brighter than his ghostly body. “Is Kylo some kind of prep school nickname?” he asked, raising one brow and bringing a hand against his sternum. “Because, personally — and I don't know you — I would open with the prince line. Seems like the kind of thing that can get you in the right kind of trouble." The word “right” came off with such genuine cheer that the very shadows seemed to recoil. For a ghost, Poe had a way of offsetting the uncanny.

"Yeah," Kylo said, spitting the word out just fast enough to butcher it. "I just prefer some, ah, anonymity, you know?" Kylo shifted and shoved his hands in his pockets. Talking about this with his friends was uncomfortable. Talking about it with a ghostly stranger was entirely beyond reason. "I prefer people get to know me before they hear the name and start thinking other things" He looked over at Hux, pursing his lips. "Makes things easier."

Hux's gaze connected with his own and Kylo stiffened. The tension radiating off Hux’s body was ice cold, the frosty touch of the air from a morgue freezer. The lines of his body were rigid, drawn tight as a bowstring. For once, Hux broke their stare first, eyes snapping away. Kylo frowned and brought attention back to Poe and his — hopefully, for the love of God — friend.

Poe held one hand in the air, waving it back and forth. He clapped his free hand on his friend’s shoulder. He shook him and brought his palm to his chest hard enough for a slap to crack through the air. How spectral light on spectral light made sound was unclear, but Kylo was learning not to question anything that happened here. He could only balk at so many ghosts before it was time to settle down and accept them.

“This,” Poe said, shaking the man again, “is my friend, Finn.” His grin grew and Kylo wondered how far it could go. Would it peel back at the edges of his face, revealing bone and sinew? Something had to be lingering beneath. There was no room for true kindness in such a wicked, bizarre place. As nice as it was to imagine finding peace with some of the ghosts, he couldn’t find it in himself to think it possible. Even Kanata, Hux’s friend, had chosen to provide a riddle instead of straightforward advice.

“Let me tell you,” Poe continued, waving his pointer finger in the air, “there is no finer man than this one, right here. He really takes the egg.”  
  
Finn’s eyes widened and he smiled, flashing his teeth and chuckling. “Poe,” he said under his breath, turning toward his friend. The edges of his form seemed to sizzle, bubbling off of him like steam from boiled water. They stared each other in the face for too long, Finn jumping and turning back toward Hux and Kylo once the lingering silence became too apparent to everyone involved.  “Ah,” he said, clearing his throat, “don’t listen to him. He’s a flatterer.”

Finn smoothed his gloved hand down the front of his lapel. He reached out, hand floating in air mere inches in front of Kylo’s chest. “But yeah,” he said, “I’m Finn.”

Kylo looked to the glove, staring at the places where he could see wood panels through it.  Steeling his nerves, he lifted his own hand to meet Finn’s.

He never quite made it.

Hux lashed out like a viper, fingers wrapping around and crushing Kylo’s. He squeezed, tugging Kylo’s hand back toward their sides, and glared through the raised brows Finn gave him. “It is good to see you both,” Hux said, hissing through his teeth. He laced his fingers with Kylo, softening his grip but refusing to let go. The muscles of his jaw flexed, veins of his neck standing out. For all his cool posturing, he looked like a hound pulling at the end of his leash, teeth snapping shut before cornered prey. “Kylo and I are in quite the rush, though. We really should be going.”

Finn folded his hand back toward himself, eyes sinking to the place where Hux and Kylo’s grips tangled together. He frowned and tightened his hands into fists. Even as Poe patted his shoulder, his expression soured.

Poe hummed, head lolling to one side. His nostrils flared and he smiled despite it, saving face “A rush, huh?” he said, “I assume you’re off to get ready for the party tonight?”  
  
“No,” Hux replied, sharp. “We have private matters to handle with the mistress.”

The corners of Poe’s lips twitched upward. “The mistress called the party in Kylo’s honor. Surely you’ll be there.”

Hux flinched as if struck. His grip on Kylo’s hand tensed. The traces of some unseen game became visible in its aftermath. The contents and rules remained unclear, but the outcome was obvious: Hux had lost. “Of course,” Hux said, nodding. “Of course we will. We’d never miss it.”  
  
Poe returned the nod and Finn ran his tongue over his teeth, smirking off to the side. Hux swallowed hard enough for Kylo to see it. “Well,” Hux continued, stepping off to the side and dragging Kylo behind him. “We really should be going now.”

“Yeah?” Finn said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just going to run off?”  
  
Hux paused, looking back over his shoulder. Finn carried on, staring him down.  “Don’t think I don’t notice the way you treat Rey, Poe, and I compared to everyone else here. You won’t even look us in the eye for more than a minute. What is it?” He uncrossed his arms, holding his hands out. “Go on - give me your reasons, Hux.”

Poe dropped his hand from Finn’s shoulder, eyes skirting over to Hux. He pursed his lips, brows knitting together in the center. “He has a point, Armitage,” Poe said, delivering Hux’s name like a knife in the dark. “Want to tell us what gives?”

Hux’s face was unreadable, mired in a context Kylo failed to grap. Hux regarded Finn for a few moments before turning back around and heading on his way. Finn and Poe’s eyes burned against his back but Hux ignored them, continuing on without concern for the scoff they shared as he slipped down the hall.

Finn and Poe turned to smoke and dissipated out through the air, leaving Kylo to look between the place they’d been and the Hux’s back. The echo of Finn and Poe’s complaints came back as garbled whispers, hanging in the air despite their absence. Kylo shuddered as their words, rendered meaningless but loud enough to hear, squirmed into his ears like pincer bugs.

The pace of their retreat increased with every step, Hux barreling down the hall with Kylo stumbling behind. He kept his head hung, face hidden from the dull light of floating candles and rickety lamps. When it became inconvenient drag Kylo, Hux released him, to charging forward and forcing Kylo to jog just to keep up.

“Hux!” Kylo called, frowning. He tried to Hux by the elbow and missed, grabbing at the air. He stopped as Hux made a sharp turn through a half-open door, disappearing from sight. The hinges creaked as he pressed inside and Kylo stood still, staring into the sliver of darkness revealed through the cracked door.

“Hux?” Kylo stepped forward, setting his hand on the door frame. He poked his head through, scanning the room. A tall window with sheer, tattered curtains filtered in moonlight, gleaming along the edges of bedroom furniture. Kylo looked over the tall bedposts and end tables, recognizing the trunk at the foot of the bed. It was the same room they’d shared together, the air still thick with mothballs and dust. Kylo inhaled and took another step forward, shoulder easing the door the rest of way open.

Kylo felt around in the dark, fingers running along peeling scraps of wallpaper. The boards beneath his feet sunk and swallowed. Hux was somewhere in the room with him and, yet, the darkness swallowed him in solitude. The whining wood turned into a threat in his mind, every creak coaxing his fight or flight response. He pressed forward, trying to temper his irrationality, and only made it a few feet before he was stunned still by sudden change.

A single flame came alive, burning at the end of a match pinched between Hux’s fingers. It moved across the wicks of a candelabra, igniting each before going out beneath Hux’s breath. The dim light cast shadows on his face, dark lines gathering beneath his eyes and making him gaunt. His gaze flicked upward as he crossed the room, opening the doors of a large armoire with the candelabra gripped in hand. “It looks like you’ll get your wish,” he said, sorting through hung coats and patting away cobwebs. “You’ll be dancing the night away in no time.”

Kylo waited a few seconds before approaching, calming himself with a few deep breathes. He came up behind Hux, staring over his shoulder and into the armoire. It was stuffed full of clothing and Hux’s fingers brushed over fabric and coat hangers. Kylo waited for him to take notice of their proximity, for him to say anything at all, but he just kept moving hangers back and forth.

The scrape of metal hooks along the armoire rail filled the room, small and high-pitched like nails along a chalkboard. Kylo raised his hand, catching Hux by the wrist and stilling him. The scraping came to a clattering halt and Hux lifted his head. He stared forward but did not respond, his pulse fluttering against Kylo’s fingertips.

“You want a proper explanation,” Hux said, rolling his head toward one shoulder. His words were slow and lacking their old polish, a burden for his tongue. His shoulders rolled forward, body slouching so that the curve of his spine brushed against Kylo’s chest. “You want to know what that was about.”

Kylo nodded but said, “If you want to tell me.”

Hux turned, facing Kylo in the darkness. He left his wrist in Kylo’s grip and brought the candelabra between their chests. Hux’s gaze, his face carved into something inhuman by the patches of dark and light the fire laid across it, bore into Kylo. It left him vulnerable, unable to turn away or speak or think or do anything at all. It was like Medusa’s and he was frozen under it, waiting for Hux to free him.

“You wouldn’t be happy, if I told you,” Hux said, the force of his words shaking the candle flames. His eyes lowered to them, releasing Kylo from their hold as his voice grew fickle. “You’d be very displeased, in fact.”

Thus far, Kylo’s pleasure had weighed very little in any of this. His safety — indeed, his life — had eclipsed concerns of happiness. To hear Hux worry over displeasure was nothing short of puzzling. “Do you mean it would scare me?” he asked, bending at the knee to catch Hux’s eyes again. They were softer but somehow worse, filled with an uncertainty that felt unnatural on Hux. “I already know there is a chance anything here could kill me. If you were just looking out for me, then...well, I wouldn’t upset to hear you say so. I know there are risks here, Hux.” He frowned, wrinkling his forehead.  “Just talk to me.”

The expression which flashed across Hux’s face was familiar to Kylo. It was like his mother’s face a thousand times in his childhood, the wide eyes that reflected all the worries of the world. His wrist slipped from Kylo’s hand and he shook his head. “That isn’t...” he said, words falling shorts as he clamped his eyes shut. “That _is_ a part of it, yes, but there is more.”

“The reason you treat those ghosts different, you mean,” Kylo said. He loathed the candles between them, wishing they’d disappear even if it meant returning to uncanny darkness. He wanted to help, to understand. It would have been so simple had they been allowed to seek the peace they’d known in the “morning” when proximity, the warmth of skin on skin, had been enough to soothe the brunt of their misfortunes.  But, the candles were in the way, preventing him from pressing further forward and crowding out the frustration which hung over Hux like a drape. He’d never thought fire could be the thing in the way of an illumination, and yet here he was.

"I’ll tell you,” Hux said. He turned his body halfway and grabbed a coat from the armoire, shoving it against Kylo’s chest. It was heavy wool, blacker than the room around them. “After the party, I’ll tell you. There is no reason to depress you when you stand to have a good night doing precisely what you wanted to do here first.”

Kylo raised his hand, covering Hux’s where it pinned the coat to his chest. “Dance, you mean?”

It was a strange offer, a distraction Kylo was wholly aware of but also one he could not deny.

Hux curled his fingers beneath Kylo’s palm. He stared straight at Kylo’s chest instead of his eyes, looking forward like the overlap of their hands on the coat might start a fire to dwarf the candlelight. “Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly, “dance.”

A smile came over Kylo’s face, barely visible in the low light. “Well,” he said, “if you don’t like when I touch ghosts, it looks like you’ll have to dance with me.”

Hux looked up and returned the expression. “It would seem so.”

 

Despite the state of its attendees, the party was, just as its predecessor, lively.

Liquor poured out of floating bottles and into spectral mouths, running straight through and pooling on the ground in a growing sea of bubbles. Haughty laughter filled the air from invisible bodies. Those that could be seen swung in intricate patterns, dancing from the floor to ceiling and every place in between.  A buffet lined one wall, stacked high with dilapidated and rotten food. Flies and ghosts hovered around it in equal number, the buzz of wings and idle chatter coming together in one, great hum.

Kylo entered in the clothes Hux had given him, dressed for the times. He felt like he was back on the set of some Disney channel holiday episode. He couldn’t quite decide if he felt like the villain on a Dicksonian Christmas special or the vampiric love interest in a Halloween drama. Either way, there was something both pleasant about the whole get up. At the very least, he felt less conspicuous than he had before. 

“The cloak is for outside only, you realize,” Hux said, smirking at his side. He’d readjusted his hair and come to “kill,” already searching for Constance in the crowd of ghosts. “You probably shouldn’t be wearing it to a party.”

“She won’t care what I’m wearing,” Kylo replied, sticking up his nose. “She’s out for my money.”

Hux sighed and held up his elbow, offering Kylo his arm. “It’d be grand if that was all she wanted, hm?” he said, guiding Kylo into the ballroom as they linked together. “Such a shame she’s also out for your head.”  
  
The ghosts were beginning to recognize Kylo’s presence, their chatter growing louder as they eased toward him. Their voices covered up the music, becoming a low rumble that reverberated off the walls. Hux stopped once it became impossible to go forward without pressing through spirits, his eyes passing over the crowd. He kept a firm lip and blank eyes, meeting their enthusiasm with frigidity.

Silence rushed over the crowd following the gentle ring of fork against glass. Everyone turned back toward the butter where Constance waited, a full wine glass raised above her head. “I would like to be the first to welcome the prince to this gathering in his honor,” she said, a whoop following her words. She quieted it with a wave of her hand and flowed across the ground like blood over stone, oozing toward Kylo and Hux. Her smile was the same sickening sweetness as before. Enticing. Lovely. But all the same too much, too great, to be real.

Standing before Kylo, she lifted the sides of her skirt and curtsied. “I still cannot believe a member of a royal house has chosen to bless my own home with his presence.” Rising, her eyes caught on Hux’s and Kylo’s joined arms. She stared and carried on speaking, the smile on her face growing statue still and uncanny. Kylo waited for the moment where it would snap or peel back like Poe’s had threatened to.

“But, I am endlessly appreciative for the fact,” Constance continued, her eyes drifting up Kylo’s arm and stopping at his face. The tightness of her expression seemed to close down on his chest, crushing in against his rib cage. “Please,” she said, “do enjoy yourself.”

Her body flew away in unfelt wind. Smoky tendrils spiraled off to take form across the room. She kept watch even from afar, her gaze striking straight through her translucent fellows. Kylo kept his attention on Hux for the sake of his sanity. If he was going to die here, there was no reason he shouldn’t at least enjoy Hux’s company before he did.

“Well,” Hux said, allowing Kylo to guide him for once, “She seemed pleased with us, didn’t she?”

“Just overjoyed.” Kylo lead Hux threw the crowd, weaving between clamoring ghosts. More than once, he was forced to pass through them. Each time, a gripping cold took hold of his body. It built on itself, stacking, as he pressed forward. By the time he made it to a clear portion of the dance floor, he was shivering. His teeth clattered in his mouth and Hux snickered at his discomfort.

Cruel little thing, but cute.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to touch him to spare you the frostbite,” Hux said. He took one of Kylo’s hands in his own, warming it. As Hux’s fingers smoothed over his palm, Kylo shivered for reasons other than the cold. How grand it would be to, to take off Hux’s gloves and touch his skin again. “You feel like a corpse,” Hux whispered. “I haven’t lost you already, have I?”  
  
The music had started in earnest without them noticing. It was a slow progression of notes, a drag across the ear that’s only saving grace was that it wasn’t meant for a funeral. Ghostly couples took flight all around, the electric colors of their clothing and skin like the flecks that glint off a prism.

“You haven’t lost me,” Kylo said, taking one step in. They were toe to toe, almost nose to nose. So close. Kylo laid Hux’s hand on his shoulder and took hold of his waist.  Their joined hands rose up, high in the air. “Are you ready?” 

“Do you really think you can dance to this?” Hux asked. He was searching Kylo’s face for something. Kylo imagined that something was a reason to stop this. In truth, there were plenty. Constance was watching. Constance was angry. In a world where she had complete power, it was foolish to carry on this way. Hux was a smart man. He knew as much. If he wanted to stop, he had every excuse at his fingertips.  
  
“I can try,” Kylo said. He took the first step, his right foot extending out to the side.

Hux matched him

They proceeded in a game of mimicry. For every move Kylo made, Hux followed. Their procession across the dancefloor came with surprising grace, footsteps flowing in rings and half-circles. It wasn’t a dance with any name — not quite the waltz or simple swaying — but they managed on their own time. Kylo kept his eyes on Hux, smiling as one rebellious strand of hair fell from place and onto his forehead. Hux returned the attention, eyes trained to Kylo’s face.

The world around them, already made of phantoms and tricks of light, gave way. It melted away into air, into thin air. They were alone together, turning faster than the broken time of the mansion could track. For Kylo, the beat of the music was replaced by the beat of his heart. He stepped to his pulse and Hux kept time, aligning with him anyway. The space between them shrunk, their chests brushing whenever Kylo stepped forward. It would have been so easy to stop and crash their bodies together, lips on lips and hands in hair. Kylo could think of almost nothing else.

As they crossed the room, their shoulders brushed through several other couples. The varied rushes of temperature, from too cold to boiling hot, scarcely threatened to break their focus. The ghosts carried on with equal measure, laughing like it was all some big joke. Hux flinched each time, but retained his grace in the dance.

“I didn’t expect you to be so good at this,” Hux said. He smiled to himself, shaking his head. “You don’t look like the sort.”

“Princes get dancing lessons, don’t they?” Kylo replied, leading Hux into a spin. Hux stumbled through it, bewildered by the sudden addition, and then scoffed back at him. Kylo couldn’t help but snicker. Finally, the countless hours he’d spent rehearsing for repetitive “ball episodes” had become worthwhile. “And what about you?” he asked, steadying Hux with his hands, “Other than just now, you’ve done fairly well.”

Hux clicked his tongue and leaned closer to Kylo, wiping the smug grin off his face. “If you let me lead, I can show you what I can really do,” he said, voice like the velvet for the ears. Kylo stopped dead in his tracks, hand sliding from Hux’s waist to his shoulder. He took full advantage of the opportunity to feel the curve of Hux’s side. In slipping his hand down from Kylo’s shoulder, Hux returned the favor.  
  
“Go for it,” Kylo said, and they were off.

If Hux were even slightly shorter, it would have been awkward. But, at just the right height, he filled the role without struggle. They turned round and round, taking a whirlwind pace that disregarded the slow music. What little they cared to notice around them became a blur of colors, ribbons of ghost blue and shocking garb streaking the edges of their vision. It was exhaustive. Kylo drew short of breath and sweat trickled down his back. He felt the heat coming off his own body and reveled in what he imagined was the heat from Hux. More than the turning, his desire to bring Hux closer was dizzying.

“And where did you learn this?” he asked, breathless.  
  
“Oh, you know,” Hux said, shrugging his shoulders and looking off to the side. “You pick up a few things going to so many ghost parties.” His lips pulled upward and his eyes snapped back to Kylo, almost too intense. “A few things like this!”

Hux wrapped his arm around Kylo’s waist and leaned forward, dipping him. All of the air left Kylo’s lungs, time grinding to a standstill. Their faces were impossibly close, lips mere centimeters apart. So close together, Kylo was able to retrace the lines of Hux’s pale eyelashes, tracking them around the vibrant green of his eyes. If not for Constance’s attention, Kylo would have kissed him. He yearned to feel what he’d been denied in the foyer. He wanted to know if Hux’s lips were as soft as they looked, if they’d yield to him with the world’s sweetest surrender.  
Staring up at Hux, it felt like the whole world was falling out from underneath him.

Which, to be honest, it quite literally was.

Hux buckled under his weight and Kylo went crashing down. His head struck the hardwood and he groaned, body crumpling up against the floor. The ghosts gasped, crowding the air around him. With his head blaring and so many souls floating over him, it was easy for Kylo to mistake himself for dead. Only when he saw Hux’s orange hair in the sea of blue faces did he realize he was living.

“Shit,” Hux said, scrambling to help Kylo up. He pressed his hand to Kylo’s head, applying pressure where he’d struck it. “No blood,” he mumbled before taking Kylo’ jaw and checking his eyes.  
  
“I don’t have a concussion, Hux,” Kylo mumbled. The increasing swarm of ghosts formed a wall around them. Some laughed and he bristled.  His mind drifted to the past, to moments when others crowded around him to capture his lowest moments, and he locked his jaw. Taking hold of one of Hux’s hands, he said, “Just help me up.”  
  
Hux heaved and pulled him to his feet, muttering apologies than Kylo failed to hear over the raucous chatter of so many prying ghosts. At the same time, two of the Confederate soldiers appeared, breaking through the wall. Kylo froze at the sight of them, overtaken by an alien discomfort that crawled on his skin like bed bugs. Both of the men were shorter than he and Hux. For Confederate soldiers, they were strangely round faced and doe eyed. One of them looked like a teenager, too skinny for his uniform.

“Are you alright?” the older one asked, his Southern drawl thicker than even Constance’s had been. His hair was dark and slick to his head, ears poking out the sides in way Kylo could empathize with. Well, spare the fact the man was a Confederate soldier, which meant his empathy for him was extremely limited.

Hux put up his hand, keeping the Confederates at bay. “Please, everyone, give the prince space! It was only a small accident and he’s fine. Just let him breath,” he called. Even with his glare, very few of their patrons left. Those that did remained close by, peaking through one another to watch as Kylo brushed himself off. The older Confederate pouted at Hux and looked at Kylo with puppy eyes that did not suit his outfit. Hux sighed and waved him off. “Not now, Mitaka. Please.”

Mitaka chewed his bottom lip and looked between Hux and Kylo. His shoulders slumped and he turned to his skinny friend, mumbling, “Come on, Than.” Together, they broke up the crowd, ushering everyone back to their own affairs while Hux fussed over Kylo.

The wrinkles on Kylo’s cloak stood up against Hux’s incessant smoothing and he cursed. “That was so stupid of me,” Hux spat, unable to hold Kylo’s gaze for more than a second. He wasn’t quite flush, but he seemed on the verge of it. Kylo smiled despite the ache in his skull. It was easier to breath with crowd gone and Hux worked with such a soothing sort of determination.

“It’s fine,” he said and then, quieter, like a secret only Hux should hear, “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”  
  
It was blunter than anything else he’d said, but oh how it was worth it. If Hux was cute embarrassed, then he was downright adorable with pink on his cheeks. He huffed in Kylo’s face, but there was no going back on the little treasure he’d managed to see. “Quiet you,” Hux grumbled, shoving the butt of his hand against Kylo’s chest. “Stop spouting nonsense just because you’ve smashed your head in.”

“I would have said the same before,” Kylo said, emboldened by his brush with death and Hux’s lips. There was no mistaking Hux’s mutual interest. Kylo was certain in himself. Hux wanted him. Hux wanted him enough to dance with him in front of a jealous murderer. Hux wanted him enough to try dipping him like they were old Hollywood romantics. Hux wanted him enough to fret over him and flush the color of dewy rose petals. It was obvious and unbelievable all at once.

Kylo extended his hand. “Why don’t I try the dipping next time?”  
  
Hux’s palm slid over his. “Fine,” Hux said, sticking up his nose and smiling in the same motion, “but you better not be the vengeful type.”

“No promises,” Kylo whispered, pulling Hux closer.

They started off in another dance and did not stop until Kylo’s legs burned like fire beneath him. As the part came toward its close, they collapsed in an odd corner of the room, laughing at each other as they tried to recount who had tripped a greater number of times. The dust and spider webs that hung around them were no deterrent, forgotten as they committed each other’s laughs to memory. 

As their uproar calmed, the exertion of endless dance settling in, Kylo laid his head upon Hux’s shoulder. Several ghost couples still swung in the air, though even their loops had grown slow and lazy. Plenty more congregated around the food they could not eat and chatted. Among them, he saw Finn and Poe. At their side was a girl of particular note. She wore trousers, shirking the colorful dresses of the other lady ghosts, and spoke with great animation. Her gestures seemed to captivate Finn, who smiled each time she finished a sentence.

“Hux,” Kylo said, fighting back the yawn waiting in his throat. His stomach gurgled but he ignored it, knowing better than to try and eat from the buffet when it smelled of death and fermentation. “Are you going to tell me about those three, now?”

The heave of Hux’s shoulders as he sighed forced Kylo to crane his neck. Hux turned his head in the direction of Finn, Rey, and Poe before dragging his gaze across the room to the isolated pocket of four Confederates. “The party isn’t quite over yet. Are you sure you want to know now?” Hux whispered, flicking his eyes down at Kylo. The remnants of jovial energy left him, his words vacuous and bare. They carved a hollow space in Kylo’s mind, a temporary thought that said it might be better if he never knew.

But, he’d been curious for too long to let anything deter him Kylo nodded. “I want to know now,” he said, closing his eyes. “I promise I won’t panic.”

Hux sighed again, louder. “I don’t know if that is a promise you can keep,” he said. He lifted his shoulder to jostle Kylo, stirring him from the beginnings of sleep. The combination of dancing and hunger had left him dozing off and he jolted up. “If I’m going to tell you, you’re going to need to listen carefully.” Hux leaned back against the wall, stretching out his legs on the ground. He fiddled his fingers together and pursed his lips, silent for a long time as he collected his thoughts. “Finn and Poe are dead.”  
  
Kylo squinted. “Right? They’re ghosts?”

Hux put up his hand, waving it in Kylo’s face. “No,” he said, hard. “You aren’t understanding. They are dead and I know they are dead.” Hux’s face screwed up, the muscle at the back of his jaw twitching. He turned to face Kylo entirely, boring into his eyes with that same, petrifying stare. “Do you remember what I said before? That I have no idea if these ghosts are real dead people? That was a lie. I don’t know if _most_ of these ghosts are real dead people. I have no clue if Constance or Kanata ever lived.” The intensity of his expression fell away to a frown, eyes downcast. “But, I know they were alive.” He looked over his shoulder to them, to Finn and Poe and their laughing friend. “Once.”

That one word painted a horrible picture. In concert with Hux’s state — downturned lips, red eyes, trembling fingertips, _shame —_ it was enough to make Kylo feel faint. “You guided them,” he said. Unsaid: You lost them

“I guided them,” Hux repeated, looking down into his lap. He furrowed his brow and bit his bottom lip, his own hands squeezing together hard enough to shake. “I guided them and they died.” The last word came out broken, Hux’s voice shrill. He pressed one palm to his face, hiding himself behind his fingers. “Finn, Poe, Rey, Mitaka, Thanisson, Rodinon, Unamo, and Datoo - I’ve failed seven people in here. All of them are stuck forever, forced to dance around when they had families and dreams and things to go back to.”

“Seven,” Kylo mumbled. The pianist warned that the last song of the night was coming and a cry rose up among the spirits. Finn, Poe, and their friend — Rey — took to the dance floor, joining arms and spinning altogether. The Confederates — Hux had called one Mitaka, right? And then there was “Than” — rallied as well, laughing louder than anyone else in the crowd. As they started to dance, dread took hold of Kylo like a bitter old friend. It scratched needle-like claws over the weak points it recognized, threatening to gouge the insecurities he’d shared in confidence.

“And they were all so easy to save,” Hux said, his words sharp and hard against the ears. “None of them had to deal with Constance. None of them had all the attention of the house on them.” He curled the hand at his side into a fist, the fabric of his glove wrinkling.  He spoke with clarity, like a man on trial desperate to ensure the jury heard him right. “All I had to do for Poe was get him out the front door. We were only ten steps away when the wood gave out. If I’d just caught his hand, he’d have been fine.” He deflated, slouching.  “But I didn’t do it. I didn’t catch him or get Thanisson out of the fire or keep Mitaka from getting strangled.” He pulled his hand away from his face, staring at the palm. “I couldn’t even bring Rey enough food. I couldn’t even do that.”

Kanata warned of immeasurable difficulty and she’d been right to. As Hux carried on, Kylo became certain he’d be swallowed up by the house. Everyone outside would go on wondering until they decided it was time to settle. Stories would blossom like weeds in an untended field, smearing his name. Myths and legends would build up around how his disappearance, his death. His mother would hold on hoping and still, at the back of her mind, agree with the tabloids when they said he’d gone mad — again — used drugs — again — and burnt up in a screaming self-immolation.

It’d make for a good news stories to plop between diet findings and reports on genocide. Maybe he’d take up the Kardashian time slot for a few days.

“Worse yet,” Hux said and Kylo couldn’t believe him. Even without the full sentence, he knew Hux was wrong. There was nothing worse. There couldn’t be. They’d come to worst part already.

Hux continued on as if intent on proving him wrong. “They can’t even remember the dreams or families they had. They can’t remember anything at all about themselves. They’re just—” Hux brought his hands close to his chest, shaking them up and down. “— _gone_. The mansion just eats up their minds and makes them into ridiculous, Southern caricatures.” Hux clamped his eyes shut and dropped his hands to his lap, defeated. “Thanisson was going to school to be a human rights lawyer and now he’s a fucking Confederate soldier and I can’t — I can’t — deal with them. With any of them. I don’t want to talk to them or touch them. I don’t want you to talk to them or touch them because the proximity just makes it feel like, like…” He trailed off, opening his eyes and taking Kylo’s hands between his own. “I just don’t want to lose you, too.”

“Do they ever remember?” he asked, voice soft enough not to startle Hux.

A glaze came over Hux’s eyes and he nodded. “Sometimes,” he said, taking his hands back and knotting them in the fabric of his trousers. “But only little things and only for a moment.”

“Hux—”  
  
“They’re usually mad at me, when they do,” he said, hugging himself. He was shaken in a way Kylo hadn’t seen before. This was the anger or frustration he’d seen after Constance’s appearance on the stairwell. This was not the dry, cold apprehension from back in their dusty room. It was bloodshot eyes and shivering. It was the inability to hold his gaze or look up. It was devastation.  “They look at me and ask me why I let them die. Why I couldn’t help them more.” He rubbed the back of hand against his eye, no yet crying but close. “And I don’t have an answer for them. I just have to wait for them to forget again and then they know they’re forgetting and it’s like...it’s like they’re dying all over again and I still can’t help them.”  
  
Hux crumbled and Kylo surged forward to catch the pieces. He tucked Hux against his chest, ignoring the dull throb of his temples. His own thoughts were white noise, overfull and empty all at once. Hux’s hair was soft against his face and he grounded himself in that feeling. He said, “It’s okay,” even though he didn’t believe it. Hux turned his face to Kylo’s throat, warming his nose against his pulse. “I trust you,” Kylo said, forcing himself to take the words seriously. They felt half-baked but he embraced them, clung to them. Even if he had every reason to doubt, he had to try and have faith. If Hux was willing to try for him, when all the odds were against them, then he had no option but to return the favor.  
  
The pianist called for the final song and Kylo dragged Hux up from the ground. “Come on,” he said, ushering Hux across the floor. He ducked his head and ignored the call of ghosts, unwilling to engage in conversation with Hux shivering under his arm. He passed by Finn, Poe, and Rey on the way, ducking beneath their scrutiny. For a moment, he locked eyes with Rey. The hungry pit in his stomach growled and he looked away. He wouldn’t go the same way.  
  
Halfway across the floor, something tapped against his shoulder blade. It was heavy and left no lingering chill, quite unlike all the ghosts who’d touched him. Kylo turned toward it, tugging Hux even closer. The face he met was the edge of an axe and, behind it, Constance’s pretty blue smile. “Hello, darling,” she said batting her eyelashes and drawing the axe back toward herself. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I—” she giggled, weighing the axe in her hands “—cut in?”  
  
Hux shot up to attention, pulling out from beneath Kylo’s arm. “The prince has told me he is very tired, mistress,” he said, concealing any evidence of his own exhaustion. “Perhaps another time would be better?”  
  
Constance waved her hand, letting the head of her axe fall to the ground. The edge buried itself in splintered wood. “Now, now, Hux,” she said, tapping her finger against the tip of his nose. “You’ve been hogging him all night. I think he can spare one little dance for the lady that set up this whole affair, don’t you?”

When Hux tried to protest, Constance snatched Kylo by the wrist. Her grip was hard and felt like acid on the skin, drawing a gasp from Kylo’s lips. She yanked him away, pulling him around like he weighed nothing at all. She snapped him into proper dancing position, forcing his hand to her waist. The burning feeling was replaced tingling numbness and Kylo flinched, uncertain how to proceed. “Ah,” he said, and that was good enough for her.  
  
“Why don’t you go mind the soldiers, Hux? They’ve grown a little rowdy,” she said, staring him down the bridge of her nose. With Kylo firmly in her clutches, she spun off, dragging him across the emptying ballroom. Her footsteps carried them up into the air, Hux shrinking beneath them. Kylo didn’t dare to look down, not when he suspected she’d tear his throat out if he gave her the opportunity. He felt support beneath his feet where there wasn’t any and he smiled to save his life.  
  
Her eyes raked up and down his body. It might have seem sexual if it didn’t seem so predatory, like she was looking for the most tender cut of meat on a new sow. “As much as I liked the cultural costume you were wearing when you arrived,” she said, honeying every word so much that they stuck in the air, “you look very charming in this.” She stroked her thumb over his collar. “Handsome.”

In a good world, he could have torn away from her and gone running back to Hux. In an acceptable world, he could have at least looked to Hux for sympathy. But, suspended in the air and climbing upward with every turn, he was forced to engage her. He worried that if he let go, he’d fall to his death, splattering on the ground. So, where he wanted to run, he spoke instead. “Thank you,” he said, “You, ah, look nice too.”

Constance hummed. “You’re so sweet,” she said. Somehow, it almost sounded like an insult. “I see you’ve taken a liking to our little British butler. Charming, isn’t he? A nice import, for what he is.”  
  
Kylo kept his face straight despite the way he ground is teeth. “For what he is?” he asked, trying to take lead of the dance and failing. She was simply too powerful; they were never going to turn a direction she wasn’t interested in going. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”  
  
She tutted and clicked her tongue like he was a poor, mislead child. “It is fine if you haven’t noticed. He’s done so well, learning how to hide it,” she said, head lolling to one side. Her touch grew cold again, forcing a shiver up his back. “But the poor thing is mad. Always on about another world outside our own. I often worry if he might snap and cause us all trouble. If he weren’t such a sweet attendant, I would have let him go years ago.”  
  
“Right,” Kylo said. A million rebuttals about her own madness stirred in his mind but he quelled them. There was no burn he could deliver worse than what she could do with her hands. “Well,” he continued, trying to take her through a twirl. She allowed it and laughed, her voice carrying through the house like a rumbling quake. “Enough about him. More about you.”  
  
“So authoritative,” she said, bring her hand to his jaw. She ran her nails over his skin and, where that might have been sensual with anyone else, he recognized she was just showing off her claws. “I should have expected as much from a prince.”  
  
The song came to a close, leaving only the mumbles of those around them. The other ghosts said goodbye to one another and turned to smoke. Their remnants formed a large cloud at the ceiling, hanging over them as Constance cupped both his cheeks in her hand. They sunk down to the ground as she spoke. “We are going to have dinner together and then I will tell you everything your heart desires,” she said, smoothing her palms over his skin as they settled against the floor. For once, they were neither hot nor cold, simply soft. She blew him a kiss and vanished in the same breath, her tendrils curling past his body and up into the air.

As the smoke passed him by, Kylo swore he heard men talking. They were yelling over one another, but a single word repeated over and over in their chanting.

Run.  
  
Hux appeared at his side, grimacing. He took hold of Kylo by his triceps, looking him over for any clear sign of bodily injury. “Are you alright?” he asked, the one stray strand of hair Kylo loved so much stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I thought she was going to drop you. Fuck, I was so sure she was going to drop you. The second you two started floating I thought I was going to pass out. I didn’t even know she could do that, let alone that she would. It was absolutely—”  
  
Hux was speaking like water overrunning a levy, words flooding out over Kylo fast enough to knock him off his feet. Kylo blinked and said, “Hux.”  
  
“—terrifying. What did she say? Did she ask you to marry her yet? Did you ask her to marry—”  
  
“Hux,” he said again. Honestly, he was starting to wonder how many times he was going to have to declare Hux’s name in his lifetime. In a fair world, the answer would be many times, but not in this context.  
  
“—you, yet? Maybe you should do the asking? That is time period appropriate, isn’t it?” Hux finished, finally, and looked up. The amused smile on Kylo’s face threw him through a loop and he quirked a brow. “What? What is it?”

“We’re alone,” Kylo said, and it was true. The cloud at the ceiling was gone, the buffet table cleared, the champagne and chandeliers unencumbered by heckling ghosts. The whole world was quiet, peace finally returning to the ballroom.  
  
Hux turned his head to either side and then stared at Kylo. “So we are,” he said, measuring his words. After a few seconds without response, he continued with, “Why does that matter?”

Kylo smiled, pushing past the strained palpitations Constance had given him. Now that Constance had engaged her hunt, he didn’t know how many more opportunities he’d get to try and do this. “Cause it means you can stop rambling,” he said, wrapping his arms around Hux and pulling him close. Their chests were flush and, slowly, Hux’s arms came around his neck. He face pressed to Kylo’s shoulder, falling into the slow rock of Kylo’s arms. “This shows the same amount of concern without wasting air,” Kylo said, laying his chin on Hux’s head. “And it feels better.”  
  
“Are you very concerned with conserving air?” Hux mumbled, nosing at Kylo’s neck.

“Yeah,” Kylo said, closing his eyes. “I don’t know how this place works. We could run out.”  
  
Hux lifted his head, pressing the tip of his nose to Kylo’s cheek. “Here,” he whispered, his lips dragging over Kylo’s skin. “We can share.”  
  
Hux pressed his lips to Kylo’s. The treachery was immediate. Where Hux had promised a mutual exchange, there was theft. Kylo was breathless. He gasped as Hux deepened the kiss, a moan caught in his throat. Hux drank from his lips, leaving him weak in the knees and bereft of air. He left Kylo defenseless, yielding to warmth of Hux’s lips and tongue, unwilling to pull away even if his life depended on it. He kissed back, desperate for the sensation. It was warm, tending the aches of his muscles, soothing the pain of his heart. If Hux suffocated him with kisses, he would die content. Pulling away, Hux would find a smile on his cooling lips, one so great that his ghost would never forget what had caused it.

Each time they parted, one of them dipped back in. They shared a dozen little kisses, their lips unable to keep them apart for longer than a second. Their names came in whispers like oaths, their hands knotted in each other’s shirts and hair. “Kylo,” Hux breathed, moving his lips to brush along Kylo’s jaw line.  
  
“Yeah?” Kylo replied, hands gripping at Hux’s hips and pulling them up against his own.  


Hux pressed a kiss to the skin between Kylo’s ear and jaw, nuzzling him. “Thank you.”  
  
Kylo relaxed took hold of one of Hux’s hands. “No reason to thank me,” he said. “We’re going to be alright.”  
  
Hux hummed and nodded. “We’re going to be alright.” He pulled back and led Kylo along, leaving the ballroom behind. Bed was waiting for them, the all-encompassing warmth that could settle concern over the ghosts and Constance and death itself. There, it would be easy to forget. So long as they were together, everything would be fine.

As Hux closed the door to the ballroom behind Kylo, the lights of the chandeliers went out in a cold breeze. Only one light, a blue glow, remained. It swirled around the axe buried in the floor, just where Constance had left it.


	5. Sympathetic Vibrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! School, am I right?

Outside, the skies opened up. Rain pattered against the window panes, filling the mansion with its gentle beat. Hux laid his head on Kylo’s shoulder, his outer coat and vest stripped away. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, forearms exposed. Kylo’s fingertips ran his fingertips over the bone of his wrists and across his veins. The skin there was thin and white. Dull blue peeked through even in the low light.

Slowly, Kylo’s touch traveled higher, trailing over his bare palm just enough to tickle. Thunder cracked and blinding light shone through the tattered curtains, illuminating their faces. Hux was smiling and Kylo looked on him with his own grin.  
  
“Do your feet hurt as bad as mine do?” Hux asked, barely audible over the torrential rains. The storm was like the approach of a train, the lightning its overhead beam as it drew closer in the dark. Kylo’s costume lay in a heap at the food of the bed, replaced by the thin cotton of his own t-shirt and boxer shorts. Not far from it was a stack of stale crackers and questionable fruit they’d gathered for dinner, already half-eaten. Hux curled his free hand of Kylo’s collar, thumb running over the stitching and brushing away cracker crumbs. “Because mine are aching worse than they ever have.”

Kylo smirked, feeling out the lines of Hux’s palm. They branched out in a dozen directions, cut deep into his skin. He wondered what Kanata might say about them, if the old stories about heart and life lines were as real as spirits. He hoped she’d speak to something good, to a long life and love. He hoped his name would come up somewhere in her divination, pressed beside the words soul and mate. “Was I too much for you today?” he asked, lacing their fingers together.

“Don’t insult me,” Hux replied, scoffing. Laying on his side, he drew his knees closer to his chest, relaxing into their proximity. He curled his toes in his socks and let his eyes fall closed, turning his head against Kylo’s shoulder. “I’m just a little exhausted. Looking after you is hard work, you realize.”

Hux’s body was cold, too slight to oppose the chill hanging in the air. The ends of his fingers felt like stones pulled from permafrost and Kylo shivered as the ones in his collar ran over his clavicle. Shifting against the mattress, he took both of Hux’s hands between his own and raised them to his mouth. “I don’t think you know the half of it,” Kyo said, smiling against his fingers. He blew hot air over them and rubbed his hands around them.

The rain grew louder and house groaned in the wind, old wood creaking. Little droplets fell through the cracks in the roof, striking Hux on the cheek. He opened his eyes, pupils trained on Kylo even as the water trickled down over the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see how watching you could be harder than this,” he said, pulling one hand away to brush aside the droplet.

Kylo exhaled a laugh and released Hux, letting his own hands drop to the bed. “Are you kidding?” he said, shaking his head. He combed his hand back through his hair, smoothing it against his skull. “I’m sober, for one. And it isn’t 2014, for two.”

The sheets rubbed together as Hux sat up, leaning over Kylo. His expression was unreadable. Hidden in the shadows, he looked no different than the huddled photographers that stalked him through the city. As lightning came again, flooding the room in a burst of light that stung his eyes in familiar ways, the differences became even less evident.

Kylo pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. He waited for something to happen, feeling small beneath Hux’s silhouette.

“Kylo,” Hux said, and it was so soft that Kylo struggled against it. Pity, like a silk scarf wrapped around the throat and pulled tight, was so much worse than scorn.

“Look,” he replied, sitting up and bracing himself for the discomfort. “I shouldn't have said anything. I don’t really like talking about it. What you know is what happened. That’s it.”

Hux leaned closer, sliver of moonlight catching on his face. He wrinkled his brow, frowning. “Kylo,” he repeated, cupping his cheek. He ran his thumb across his jawline, fingers trailing over his cheekbone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was egotistical to expect that everyone in the world would know who Ben Solo is. But a young, twenty-something working at Disneyland? There was no way he was unaware. Kylo pulled his face from Hux’s hand, staring. “Don’t play dumb,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “You cannot care about who I am and that’s fine. It's even preferable, but don’t act like you don’t know. It’s not like I’m a regular person.”

“Aren’t you a regular person?” Hux asked. The tone of his voice, high-pitched and the end and questioning, made Kylo still. He studied Hux’s face, finding nothing but genuine concern.

“You really don’t know,” he said, blank. Hux nodded and a thousand pounds slipped off his shoulders, followed by a rush of feeling he couldn’t quite articulate. He pressed his lips together and curled his hands into fists, overcome. “I can’t believe this...” His voice trailed off and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. “How?” he asked, taking Hux’s hands between his own again. “How don’t you know?”

Hux narrowed his eyes. "This seems very important to you, but I can't exactly tell you how I don't know something when I also don't know what we're talking about," he said, wiggling his fingers in Kylo's grasp.

Heat came to Kylo's cheeks and he released Hux to rub at his own face. A challenge rose before him, tying his thoughts in knots. There was something magical about Hux's naivety, about the pure way in which they could know each other if he just stayed quiet. Celebrity status would spoil what they had, take Hux and make him into the same kind of vile, sycophantic voyeur as everyone else. He'd start being too sweet and then anything of substance would vanish, like cotton candy on the tongue. At the same time, there was no growing closer if he refused to be forthright. They had something here, something that clutched his heart and mind and demanded expansion. It would shrivel and die if he maintained a façade, if he just waited for Hux to find out on his own. Kylo sighed and closed his eyes.

"When I was younger, I was on the Disney channel. Just a stupid television series and set of movies. My face was on tween lunch boxes and stuff like that," he said, fidgeting. He remembered the first time he'd seen his own doll, lining the shelves at Target beside his lovely white steed. The packaging was metallic pink and blue, the price $18.99. It said ten whole phrases, repeating over and over again. “Did some stupid romcoms after that. They flopped bad. Tried doing 'real movies,' indie shit, and those didn't work out either." His throat tightened and he grasped at where his jacket drawstrings would have been if he weren't so stripped down.

Hux scooted closer, sitting cross-legged before Kylo. He pulled Kylo's hand from the air and toward his own mouth, running his lips over the curve of each digit. "My manager," Kylo said, words forced and strangled. A gaunt face came to mind, so pale it seemed more suited to the mansion than anything quite as pretty as Constance. The contrast of bald, white head against sharp black suit made him struggle to breathe. "He, ah, started pushing me to do all these endorsement deals. I was spending a lot of time at bars and clubs and stuff, promoting vodka and things like that."

His eyes stung, a familiar throb coming to his temples. "You know how that goes," he mumbled, watching as Hux pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "I was just...I don't know. I got tired of everyone talking about how much I was failing in my projects, how I wasn't living up to the hype, and there was so much _stuff_ around me. Stuff that made it easier to deal with. Stuff that made the attention more fun than not."

Hux’s lips dragged down over the bones of his hand, pressing to the joint of his thumb. Kylo shivered and hid in the darkness behind his eyelids, uncertain he could stomach speaking and looking into Hux’s eyes at the same time. He heard the clamoring calls of faceless bodies, a crowd that encroached even as he darted away. They’d caught him, spread his face and his shame across the world. “Former Disney Star Goes Wild! Ben Solo Hospitalized.” “TV Prince Loses Mind: Ben Solo and His Not so Happily Ever After?” “Ben Solo’s Royal Vegas Meltdown.” There was no escaping the world’s judgement, not when his darkest moments were cataloged in paparazzi film rolls.

“I fell apart,” he said, hunching over. “Got really fucked up in Vegas. Punched a cameraman and got myself landed in compulsory rehab for a while. It was all anyone could talk about.” It was all anyone could _still_ talk about when they saw him . It felt so long ago and, yet, it was the sole event which defined him. “I’m trying to get past that, now. Going to university, avoiding the public eye. I even changed my name.”

“Your name?” Hux asked, lifting his head to look Kylo in the eye.

“Ben,” Kylo said, slipping his hand away from Hux and laying back down against the bed. “The ghosts have it right. My original name is Ben Solo.”

How long had it been since he’d said that aloud? Kylo tucked his face in the crook of his elbow. Hux descended on him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. The weight of Hux’s head on his chest was reassuring and he returned the embrace, curling inward. They laid that way, pressed together, until rolling thunder forced Kylo to open his eyes and see the frown on Hux’s lips. He exhaled and ran his fingers through Hux’s hair. It was cotton soft and he sighed, bringing their foreheads together.

“I’m here,” Hux said and Kylo nodded. He was there.

“I was thirteen when they cast me, you know,” Kylo said. “I was so excited. It was my first role outside of a commercial and it was huge. A leading role with Disney; all the other child actors were fuming.” He bumped his nose against Hux’s as he snickered, laughing through the pit in his chest. “It was only TV, but I didn’t know that mattered. I loved Disney so much. I had all the VHS tapes in my bedroom stacked on top of each other. I watched Peter Pan until it stopped working.”

He remembered the horrible crunching sound when the tape finally gave out, the TV screen flickering between Hook’s face and error blue. His father had come home to find him crying over it, eight years old and blubbering on the living room floor. He’d offered comfort, promised he’d buy a new copy. In the end, he never did. It wasn’t his dad’s fault, of course. Work was so hard. Mom was off saving the world as the finest senator in New York. It was easy to forget something so small.

“I always wanted to come here,” Kylo said, rolling onto his back. He reached for the ceiling, splaying his fingers, grasping for something unseen. “Disneyland,” he announced, “The happiest place on Earth.” His hand fell, hitting his stomach. At the start of the Peter Pan VHS, there was an ad for Disneyland. It featured the spinning tea cups and the Dumbo ride, happy families darting from line to line with brightly colored snacks and big smiles. He could still hear their laughing so many years later. It always seemed so loud compared to his own family, which sat quietly around the dinner table on the few nights a month his parents made it home early enough to eat with him.

“I got to come all the time, after I landed the part. Press meetings, commercials, corporate luncheons, meet & greets.” He frowned, fingers knitting in the front of his shirt. “I was here all the time for almost seven years. And you know what?”

Hux whispered against his cheek. “What?”

“I never rode a single ride. I couldn’t. There was always something else to do. Photo shoots, press interviews—I never had any time,” he said, voice cracking. Kylo shook and struggled to swallow, jumping as another round of thunder rolled through the room. “I just watched everyone else go.” Tears welled in his eyes and he sat up, pulling away from Hux and darting toward the edge of the bed. He blotted his eyes against the palm of his hands, not yet crying but dangerously close. “This is stupid, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so upset over something so ridiculous."

Hux’s arms snaked around his waist, hugging him from behind. He buried his face in the nap of Kylo’s neck, face hidden in his dark curls. “It’s alright,” Hux said, shushing him. He rocked Kylo from side to side, swaying even as the bed whined beneath them. “I’m listening. Go on. I want to hear you.”

Kylo choked up and hid his face behind his hands. He’d barely known Hux for two days. This level of kindness was unprecedented. Worse yet, it was illogical. Who was Hux, out of all the people he’d ever met, to show him tenderness? This wasn’t Snow White. They weren’t allowed to feel so much so fast. He sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, overwhelmed by whatever was passing between them. “I just thought I’d get to start over if I came back here,” he mumbled, wiping at his still dry lashes. “But of course everything had to go wrong. Of course I don’t have an ounce of luck in my body.”

The pressure at his back subsided as Hux rose and slipped from the bed, coming to stand before Kylo. He put one hand on either side of his face and drew him upward by his jaw, laying a kiss on his lips. It was brief and chaste, light as the first fall leaf’s touch to the earth. In the aftermath, Hux lingered beside his face, petting the skin of his cheeks. Kylo waited for him to say something, but a hug replaced words and he was all the better for it.

Kylo turned his face, hiding it against Hux’s neck. Hux smelled of sulfur, the sweat from all their running and dancing over two days collected on his skin. It was something different from the rot and the dust and Kylo relished in it, inhaling as he returned the embrace. “You’re the only thing keeping me from tearing apart,” he said, feeling Hux’s hard swallow against his nose.

“You give me too much credit,” Hux replied, returning to his slow rocking. Kylo fell into the rhythm, as he had on the dance floor, and moved with him. The rain changed in his ears, growing soothing as Hux combed through his hair. Soon, they were back in bed, tangled together and easing toward sleep. Hux’s gentle breathes, back by the patter of raindrops, became a lullaby. If the world were just this, he thought, there would be nothing more divine.

 

They woke to a bang.

Kylo shot up from the bed. He squinted against the dark, heart thudding in his chest. The banging matched him beat for beat, coming from across the room. As his eyes adjusted, he realized the door was rattling in its frame, bending against a great force. The wood creaked, splinters breaking away. “Hux,” he whispered, but Hux was already on the move.

“Quiet,” Hux said, crawling out of bed and tip-toeing toward the door. The banging grew louder, the shaking more persistent, and they both watched as the splinters began to leap from around the handle. Hux reached for it, his eyes fixed the the copper finishing, and jumped back as it was thrown to the ground. It was replaced by an axe head, a gaping hole cut through the wood. From it, blue light trickled in.

Hux and Kylo stilled. The axe head shifted and dislodged, pulling back through the hole. A second later, the door creaked open, basking Hux in blue light.

Constance stepped inside, smiling from ear to ear as she patted the handle of her axe against one palm. “Good morning, boys,” she chimed. Spiraling whisps kicked up around her skirt and floated up around her body, flicking like antenna. “Did you sleep well? You certainly look like you were—” Her eyes raked over their bits of exposed skin “—comfortable. 

“My lady,” Hux starred, holding out his hands. Constance snapped her head towards him and frowned, her tendrils lashing out and throwing him back against the wall. Kylo jumped to his feet, darting toward Hux, but was held off as Constance took a place between them.

“You hurt him,” Kylo said, trying to press through her. Hux was pulling himself off the ground and onto shaky legs, but Kylo was kept away. Constance’s form refused to yield, like a brick wall that wouldn’t crumble. She grabbed him by his collar and held him back, stronger than any man he’d ever fought.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, darling,” Constance sang, tutting. Her grip tightened and she pulled Kylo toward herself, bringing their faces close enough for him to feel her chill against his lips. “You worry too much about the help. It really is quite sweet, but you must learn to get over it.” She reached for his face, narrowing her eyes. “There is a difference, you see, between people like him and people like us.”  Her nail stroked the underside of his chin, sharp as pointed bone. “We’re worth something and he simply isn’t.”

“Mistress,” Hux started again, only to be pinned back against the wall by her smoke. He squirmed and then went limp, helpless against her hold. In the same instance, Constance started dragging Kylo to the door, moving along even as he pushed back against the floorboards.

“Now, now, Hux. Don’t you forget who lets you stay here. There is no one else in this world that would accept a poor little imbecile like you,” she said, waving her finger at him in passing. Kylo grunted as she shoved him through the doorway, her little titter following his frustration. “Just wait here, darling. I have someone coming to help you with all your confusion while Ben and I have some alone time.”

Before either of them could protest, the door slammed shut, cutting them off from one another. Kylo pulled back against her hold, but it was useless. The door shrank behind him as Constance led him away. As they rounded the corner, he saw other ghosts approaching the room.

“What are you going to do with him?” Kylo snapped, swinging his head back around to Constance. Hux had survived a dozen murderous trysts in the mansion. Kylo would not allow him to die here, defending him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew his survival came at the expense of Hux’s.

Constance rolled her eyes and Kylo imagined tearing them out. “Again with your worry,” she said, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. “It is just as I told you before. The poor dear is delusional.”

Delusional. As if she understood the first thing about delusion. What could she say, with her mad house and inability to recognize reality? Kylo grit his teeth, forcing a smile as she lead him through wooden double doors. The hinges shrieked and stung his ears, the scent of putrid death on the air. A table layered in rotten eggs, beat, bread, and fruit lay before him, long and elegant but accompanied by only two chairs. Constance released him as they drew close, taking her place at the head of the table. Behind her, a painting of man in fine clothing hung on the wall. Kylo recognized him from the attic wedding portraits, his face caught in a permanent scream.

The doors shut behind him, creating a gust with their sudden closure. It was still possible for him to turn and sprint away, to break through one of the dozen windows lining the far wall. But her tendrils beckoned, waving in the air with warning. If he ran, she’d catch him. And, if she couldn’t, the head of her axe would.

Kylo sat down beside her, biting back the urge to vomit. The fruit bowl before him was filled with sagging, black husks and fermented juices, fat flies perched on its sides. Constance plucked one skin from the mess, the bottom tearing open as she lifted it. Soupy chunks of spoiled fruit fell into the bowl with a plunk, made worse by the wet, squelching sound the skin made as she laid it over his plate.

“You must be so hungry after dancing all night last night,” she said, pressing the plate toward him. Kylo felt his stomach lurch, the hairs of his arms standing on end. She flashed her teeth, tendrils putting a fork in his hand. “Eat.”

The fork shook in his grip as the tendrils slithered back. He pressed the prongs to the skin but, slick with its own decay, it refused to stay pierced long enough for him to eat. Time and again, it slipped back to the plate with a splat. Constance’s stare never abated and she watched him, face frozen in a smile, as he struggled. “Ben, dear,” she said and he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the stinging familiarity that came with this setup. Eyes on him, watching, expectant, as he failed

 “Sorry,” he said, struggling under her eyes. Why the hell couldn’t she just move on? She had things to say. There was no reason for this little game. As the skin fell to the plate for the tenth time, splashing its juice against his arm, he tossed the fork aside. There was no time to waste. Hux was alone and at risk. He couldn’t bother with frivolities.

The skin felt like an oil slick in his hand, slimier than vaseline. It stung to touch, though he was fairly certain the pain came more from anxiety than anything else. “We don’t often eat with utensils in Alderaan,” he said, hand-waving Constance’s raised brows. Raising the skin to his face, the stench became unbearable. His eyes watered and he tried not to gag, acidic saliva pooling in the back of his throat.

As it touched his lips, his muscles tensed. He slurped it into his mouth and tried to get it down without chewing, retching at the way it spread across his tongue like flood water over a field. Constance held his hand and he clamped his mouth shut, forcing himself to swallow. The taste remained even after it dipped the down the back of his throat. It was like wine and tar, burning at his sinuses as if he’d swallowed bleach. His body reacted like he’d been punched in gut and he keeled over, sweat gathering in his hair.

“Delicious, isn’t it? An imported variety of seed,” Constance said and he nodded, paler than the tablecloth she’d laid out for her feast.

Kylo coughed and straightened out his spine, sniffling through the tears that came to his eyes. Every part of his body was in full revolt, but he held himself together. For Hux’s sake, he told himself. He had to get through this. Desperate to avoid eating anything else, he filled air with the first conversation topic he could think of. Pointing at the painting on the wall, he said, “So, ah, who is that?”  
  
Constance turned, following his finger and then frowning. She sighed and hung her head, placing one hand over her cold, dead heart. “That would be my dear sweet George. He passed away far too soon. We’d only been married a few days,” she said waving a hand at her face. The tears she appeared to be brushing off were absent and Kylo wrinkled his nose.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching for the pitcher of water sitting to his left. The liquid was dusky brown, but he’d take anything over the burning on his tongue. Pouring himself a glass, he said, “And what took him from you?”  
  
The same expression a child wore while inventing a fib passed over Constance’s face and then she was back to her faux-swooning, hamming it up worse than any of the Disney channel actors Kylo had ever worked with. “He was working out in the garden. Such a good man, willing to work with his hands and that sort of thing,” she explained, hugging her axe to her chest as she spoke. “He started digging around one of the old tombstones, picking off the weeds, and the little decorative angel toppled over on him. Cleaved his head clean in two.”  
  
Last he’d checked, fallen rocks rarely cleaved anything. They crushed. His heart sunk in his chest, eyes sinking to the sharp edge of the axe. Constance responded by gasping and bringing her arms up around her bosom.  
  
“Ben!” she cried, beaming through her wide eyes. She reached out and smacked her hand, giggling. “You dirty thing. I can’t believe even a prince would take a chance to look down a woman’s bodice like that.” Her laughter continued as she bent her torso forward, offering him a clear view of her cleavage. It was full and, if he weren’t so very terrified and gay, it might have done something for him. “But you know,” she continued, batting her eyelashes, “I suppose I don’t really mind it when it's coming from such a handsome fella’.”

Disembodied voices sang in his mind and Constance, seemingly unaware, did not react. They were the men from earlier, goading him to flee, begging him to spare himself. “It doesn’t need to end like this,” they said. “You can be the one that gets away.”

Kylo laced his fingers with her own, smiling through the cold sting. “Enough talk of your old life,” he said, rising from his seat. “We have a future to plan.” He clutched Constance’s hand tighter, concealing his nerves with his strength. “You are, uh, captivatingly beautiful, Constance. The moment I saw you, I knew you needed to be mine. I’ve just been so nervous that I didn’t know to say.” He went to a knee, legs shaking on the way down. The ground was daggers against his skin, the air above a weight upon his shoulders. Constance's smile widened, her eyes wrinkling at the corners, and he said, “So, I’ll try and be brief: Will you be mine?”

The voices in his ear shrieked in protests before being dwarfed by the hiss and sizzle of Constance's body. Her hand turned to hot charcoal and Kylo bit his lip to keep from crying out. “Oh, Ben!” she said, abandoning her axe beside her seat and embracing him. Her body against his felt like being enveloped in molten metal and he swallowed a scream, trembling in her hold. Her nails scratched at the nape of his neck, leaving red lines and circles. “I’ll be yours, of course. I’ll be yours forever and ever,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his ear, “Until the day you die.”

“We’ll marry as soon as possible,” Kylo said, pressing past the way his lungs seemed to stop working. “Tomorrow, even. There is no reason to delay. Not when I feel this way.”

She squealed, pressing a searing kiss to his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing things my way, Ben,” she whispered, taking his jaw in hand. “Yes. Tomorrow, we’ll be married. I’ll have everything arranged. It is going to be stunning.” She smiled leaning back and staring into his eyes. “When you see how beautiful everything is, you’ll lose your head.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Hurry back! Hurry back! Be sure to bring your death certificate, if you decide to join us. Make final arrangements now! We've been dying to have you!_


End file.
